


A Brittle State Of Time

by Ambroshia



Series: A New Old World [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bounty Hunter Obi-Wan Kenobi, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Nightmares, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Panic Attacks, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:49:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26650066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambroshia/pseuds/Ambroshia
Summary: Right when the clone wars is coming to a close, Obiwan is flung into the past. Alone and in a world he's not truly a part of, he will need to come to terms with everything he has lost and what he plans to do for the future. But moving forward is a hard thing when you can't let go of a lifetime that no longer exists.
Series: A New Old World [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012344
Comments: 54
Kudos: 360





	1. Utapau

Obi-wan was in agony.

A lancing pain bore into him from every direction. Thousands upon thousands of screams tearing into the Force and into his mind. The Force was roiling with darkness; betrayal and confusion echoing at him from every corner of the galaxy.

Pain. Pain. Pain. A deafening silence.

_‘What is happening?’_

The varactyl beneath him continued its vertical climb and he had no choice but to hold on. He couldn't breathe. It felt like pieces of himself had just been torn away. Had he not been so sure that he had not been hit, he would have thought himself riddled with blaster bolts. 

The Jedi were dying. Those brilliant lights that had been a constant source of comfort and belonging were blinking out of existence. Obi-wan felt their absence like a void in his very soul and it just kept growing. More and more of his friends were disappearing, dying in despair. 

So many lost in an instant. More in the next.

_‘What is happening?’_

A darkness was smothering them all, choking them in its malice. Anakin was crying, Obi-wan knew, crying and angry and in pain. The bond they still shared was becoming unstable, ripping itself apart in his head. Anakin! _Anakin!_ Scared and desperate and Dark.

_‘What is happening?’_

He was halfway up the cliff when he felt the Force screech in panic and warning, so loud it smothered even the death cries of his family. A cannon salvo was piercing through the sky. From his own men. Towards him. No way to dodge. Too close. Too much.

The impact hits dead on, piercing into the varactyl and blowing a hole into the cliff face. Obi-wan falls and can't even yell in fear or pain, all he can sense is the satisfaction of his own men at the sight of him falling.

He sees, just for an instant, through the eyes of his commander. Sees himself plummeting from the sky, a beige comet marked for death. There is no recognition in Cody’s mind, no name to the man he had ordered shot down. There is only one word for the Jedi and that is traitor. 

Had Obi-wan not been so familiar with Cody's Force signature he would not have thought it was him at all. So muted it was, so calm in its cruelty, that there was no way it was the mind of the man he had fought beside for three years.

But there was no time, the water was rushing up to meet him.

_‘Please’_ . Obi-wan thought, calling out wordlessly to the Force. ‘ _Please_.’

The warm waters of Utapau engulfed him, the Force wailed, and all was blackness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First work. Please comment.
> 
> This will be a mix of legends and canon.


	2. A Familiar New World

Obi-wan had drowned enough times to be intimately familiar with the feeling of water pouring into his lungs. He was underwater certainly, and he needed to break to the surface soon.

The shimmering of a distant star became the center of his focus. Pushing aside all other feelings and pains he forced his body towards the wavering image. 

He burst to the surface gagging out the water he had inhaled. He had to move quickly, get to land, there was danger here. He swam to the nearest rock formation and hauled himself up. 

The Force wasn't calling out any warnings so he must be safe for the moment. He retched to the side, using the Force to help expel the remaining water in his lungs. He took several deep breaths.

He needed to move, needed to get away and find out why his men had shot at him. Something must have happened. He just needed to find Cody and then everything would make sense. There had to be a reason, something he was missing, that explained their betrayal. ‘ _Their betrayal. The Jedi. The clones have betrayed the Jedi.’_

Obi-wan had felt the darkness, had felt it grow and consume the lights, those gentle conduits of the Force. ‘ _My friends. I felt them die. They're gone. They're all gone.’_ Now he couldn't stop breathing. His lungs pulled in air too fast, he couldn't stop it. His chest hurt and the sound of his pulse was filling his ears. ‘ _What happened? What happened? How could they?’_ He was shaking, cold sweat beading along his back and neck. Obi-wan doubled over, curling into himself as tremors wracked his body. ‘ _Dead. Dead. And so afraid.’_ Obi-wan had felt it, their overwhelming emotions erupting into the force. They had died in terror and confusion and pain. His vision was going black and the tightness in his chest had only worsened. Too much. It was all too much.

  
  


_‘Stop.’_

  
  


_‘Stop. Think. Breathe.’_

  
  


_‘Breathe.’_

  
  


He was panicking.

Obi-wan took several deep breaths, holding them in before releasing them in a slow, controlled fashion. 

_‘There is no chaos, there is harmony._ ’

_‘There is no chaos, there is harmony.’_

_‘There is no chaos, there is harmony.’_

Slowly his emotions settled as he gradually released them into the Force. He needed to be clear headed now. There was much to figure out and he was still in a hostile area. 

_‘In. Out. In. Out. Breathe. Let the Force in. Let it purify.’_

Once he felt more centered, and the ringing in his ears had diminished, he became aware of the strange sound of children laughing. The thought was absurd and yet he could hear them giggling and splashing around on the other side of the gorge. Surely no parent would allow their children to remain in an active war zone. Obi-wan was certain they had evacuated virtually the entire population of the city. 

But now that he was listening something even more strange became apparent.

It was quiet. 

There was no blaster fire or the whistle of rockets. No screams of pain or calls for medics. No metallic feet walking in lock step or whining lope of a walker. There wasn't even the deep resonance sound of a star destroyer in atmosphere.

Only the sound of native animals and children laughing.

Something was terribly wrong.

Obi-wan stretched out his senses looking for the presence of his men, of the citizens that hadn't evacuated in time, even the separatists. He expected to feel the battle frenzy that overtook the clones or the pain of the injured or any other the heightened emotions that came with every battlefield. Instead he was greeted with a general sense of contentment. The people high above him all felt calm in the Force, relaxed and untroubled. 

"Oh, this is not good." He could not feel the presence of a single clone and looking upward there was no sign that a battle was even taking place. Not even the lingering scent of ozone could be found.

He was still on Utapau that was certain. The city looked much the same, save for some of the architecture that he had not seen when they first arrived. He was at the bottom of the gorge still, looking up at the sheer sides of rock dotted with landing platforms.

Nothing about the city suggested it was the location of one of the largest battles of the war or, for that matter, that the city had ever seen a war in its history. 

Something very strange was happening indeed.

_‘Well there's nothing for it’,_ he thought as he stood. ‘ _Time to get some answer_ s.’ 

A single force enhanced leap had him standing at the edge of the gorge and looking into a cave that seemed to lead up into the city. A bit aways a group of Pau’an children were swimming around, lost in some game, having taken no notice of Obi-wan.

Inside the tunnel several Pau'an as well as Utai were all leisurely walking through the tunnels, making light conversation with each other. As he made his way up toward the city the citizens echoed mild curiosity at his presence into the Force while giving him puzzled glances, though none approached him.

Obi-wan kept his placid Jedi master mask on and kept his pace steady despite his internal mind running wild with confusion and uncertainty. There were several possible explanations for the strange state of affairs he had found himself in. However, Obi-wan was willing to entertain none of them until he had more information.

He needed to get to a landing bay. Once he got to his ship, he would contact the temple and get some much needed answers.

Obi-wan continued towards the city center contemplating what exactly had transpired only moments earlier. His own men had shot him down. That was an undeniable fact, no matter how much he didn't want to believe it. Not only that, they had felt accomplishment at doing so. The real question is why. ‘ _Why?_ _Why would they do something like that?’_ Also, there was no indication of the GAR’s assault on the city. ‘ _Where did all of the men go?’_

As he walked, he felt less and less assured about what was going on. 

Once at the city center, Obi-wan found himself confronted by a tall Pau’an man in red. 

“Greetings, master Jedi. I am Iruk, Minister of this quadrant.” he stretched out his hands in the traditional greeting. “What business brings a Jedi to our little world?”

It was only thanks to decades of dealing with politicians that Obi-wan kept his face neutral. This man truly did not know why he was here. The Force did not call out deception and his aura only gave off a genuine curiosity and concern. 

_‘He doesn’t recognize me. He doesn't understand my presence.’_

The unease he felt since emerging from the water was growing. Something was very wrong and the foreboding twinge in his gut was becoming more a knot of dread.

Iruk made a quick examination of him and his curiosity doubled at what he saw. 

Obi-wan suddenly became aware that he was still sopping wet and had been steadily dripping a puddle onto the walkway. His robes probably had several blaster burns, more than one tear, and was covered in the red dirt of the planet. He had no doubt he looked like a half drowned loth-cat. 

“Had we known you were coming, we would have welcomed you.” Iruk says, every bit the politician, dismissing Obi-wan’s less than put together appearance. Obi-wan appreciated the effort. 

“I seem to have become a bit lost, i'm afraid. Could you perhaps tell me where my ship is?”

Iruk looked at him in confusion before taking out his commlink and asking several quick questions into it.

“Forgive me master Jedi but our authorities have no record of where your ship is and there are no ships that are unaccounted for.”

“Ah. Then perhaps you could tell me where I might book passage off Utapau?” Obi-wan asked as steadily as he could “And where I might find a transmitter to contact the temple.”

“You are certainly welcome to use the transmitter in the Great Hall. As far as passage is concerned, I will try to have something arranged.” Iruk said as he began walking towards a large building set deeply in the stones' side. “Perhaps your ship was stolen…” Iruk thought aloud to himself, “I will look into it.”

“No, please. Don't trouble yourself. I'm sure it will turn up eventually.” Obi-wan assured more confidently than he felt. 

The Great Hall was beautiful, with high vaulted ceilings and intricate art along its walls. Obi-wan had never seen it in its prime, having been more or less destroyed in the Separatist’s attempts to utilize it as a military base. One of the lesser tragedies of the war, the loss of many cultures’ artifacts.

The transmitter was in its own room, connected to a HoloNet terminal. Oddly enough it was not the one Obi-wan had used once they had taken the Great Hall and was instead a slightly older model. “Please, take as long as you need. I’ll go see about finding you a ship.” Iruk said, giving a slight bow before departing.

Obi-wan let out a long breath and focused on re-centering himself. There was no need to panic or trouble himself with possibilities. Everything would unfold as it was meant to. All he needed to do was trust in the Force. He could almost hear Qui-gon’s voice saying ‘focus on the here and now young padawan’.

Obi-wan turned on the terminal and had the immediate urge to turn it off.

The date was wrong. 

The date was wrong. It had to be. And yet everything he saw indicted that the date was correct. 

971 Ruus. 

Exactly ten years in the past from only an hour before.

Obi-wan was a decade in the past and what in the name of the Force was he going to do.


	3. Implications

Obi-wan stood completely still for several long moments, simply breathing and rereading those three numbers again and again.

Ten years. 

Somehow, someway, he was ten years removed from his time.

Obi-wan wished he was more surprised by this.

It was a fascinating truth that over the course of the clone wars Obi-wan’s understanding of what was possible in the universe and in the Force had grown exponentially. He had seen so much of the universe now and knew it held more mysteries than he could ever hope to understand. Archaic Geonosian myths of the undead made fact, Force sensitive ancient Zillo beasts reemerging, Maul not only returning from presumed death but with magically attached robotic legs, an army of clones appearing from thin air, and most damning of all, the whole Mortis debacle. 

_ ‘Mortis. Anakin…’ _

_ ‘No. Not right now. Don't think about it, not yet.’ _

There were more he could think of but, essentially, these last three years have shown him just how unknowable the Force truly is.

The terminal had a chair and Obi-wan dropped himself into it with the grace that had been ingrained into him from a lifetime of being a Jedi. 

If he truly was in the past, and this wasn't in fact a vision, the implications of it was staggering. And this didn't feel like any vision he had ever had. The pain in his body was very much real and the presence of the surrounding citizens felt real in the force. What was more, the essences of the Jedi were still present, as though they have never been wiped from existence. The Force was brighter for their presence and, in fact, felt lighter than it had in years. Obi-wan was certain this was reality. 

Obi-wan quite honestly felt lost. There was so much that could be changed and yet his reference for when events came to pass was shaky at best. At this time, he would be in the early stages of Anakin's training and, at the time, he barely paid attention to the goings on of the larger universe. 

_ ‘Ten years. What was I even doing ten years ago? Anakin would be about twelve and I, he, we whatever, would be getting close to twenty-eight. Twenty-eight. I might as well have been a child for all I knew of the universe.’ _

Before he could fall into a spiral of self-deprecation of all he didn't know back then about raising a child, the true nature of the galaxy, or how much he still had yet to learn, Ben let out a soul deep sigh and pushed those concerns out of his mind. There was time enough to ponder mistakes once he had a plan to deal with him falling out of time.

Certainly, Dooku had already left the order by this time, having left after Qui-gon's death. Though when and how he Fell were still an unknown. Obi-wan also knew that Dooku’s master was the one behind both sides of the war, Mace had said as much in their last meeting. Hells, Dooku had told him as much himself. He had said that the senate and even the entire republic was under the control of a Sith lord. In fact, he was the one who had first given them a name for the unknown Sith master, Darth Sidious. Dooku had tried to warn him but, in what he could see now was arrogance, he had dismissed his claims as impossible. 

Obi-wan had no doubts that the chancellor was a major player in this game but not to what extent. He could very well be the center of it all, like a spider sitting at the center of a terrible web or he may be a puppet for the real grand architect. Regardless, he was sent back too late to prevent Palpatine from becoming chancellor. And if he truly was the Sith master, then things were far more dire than Obi-wan had ever imagined. 

_ ‘Perhaps Dooku is still reachable in this time. If he's already fallen, he seemed willing enough to betray his master in our time, maybe he would again.’ _

That thought led to the other issue of the various other darkside users who were spread across the galaxy. Yoda’s insistence that there are only ever two had clearly been wrong, as Obi-wan himself had seen far more than just a single master or apprentice. Dooku, Maul, Savage, Ventress, and the ever mysterious master behind it all. Where they all were at this new time was a mystery, one which he would have to solve.

Unfortunately, he was also sent back too late to save Qui-gon and Maul would have long since disappeared to wherever it was that he had been hiding all that time. Dooku would most likely be on Serenno and possibly already a Sith. Savage would be on Dathomir if what Mother Talzin had told him was true. And Ventress, if the year was to be believed, would probably be a padawan for Ky Narec on Rattatak. Darth Sidious and perhaps even his own master were another troublesome unknown.

Whether Sidious or his master was alive was undoubtedly an issue but Obi-wan had the certainty that nothing overtly related to them had happened in his time. As long as everything continued like it had, Obi-wan had seven years before the clone wars started to uncover the Sith plot.

_ ‘The clones.’ _

  
  
  
  
  


The clones would already be in production. 

Lama Su had said that a fully matured clone took ten years and that had been at the start of the war. Apparently master Sifo Dyas had put in the order some time before his death which, in this time, would only be around three years ago. If that was true then the first 200,000, if not more, were already alive. Right now, on the distant world of Kamino, the men Obi-wan would come to know as brothers were being created and trained for a war that no one knew was coming. No one but Darth Sidious who orchestrated the whole thing for...for what? To kill the Jedi? Was that what all this had been for? There had to be more to it than that. The clones were made specifically for the Jedi and Sifo Dyas had made the order. When had the order been put into place? Before or after Naboo? 

_ ‘Sifo Dyas would already be dead at this time, so it's not like I can ask him.  _

_ Yoda had suspected he had placed the order after one of his notoriously specific visions. Which begs the question, how in the Sith Hells had the man paid for the clones?’ _

Obi-wan thought back to Padme and Bail trying to keep a bill from going through that would order more clones but would require a massive loan with insane interest from the Banking Clans. If the Republic had needed a loan to order more soldiers, then how did a single Jedi find the funds to order millions? The Jedi vaults did not have a single credit out of place and the Republic showed no massive missing or unaccounted for funds. Somehow, he had paid for them all on his own.

The Jedi and the Republic never really had time to question how the soldiers were paid for since as soon as the clones were discovered they were needed immediately for the first battle of Geonosis. And the battles hadn't let up since, leaving no time to question. The Kaminoans said the bill was paid in full and for most that was all they needed to hear. 

_ ‘The clones had even come fully equipped with amor, guns, explosives, dropships, and star destroyers! We were handed a fully provisioned army and hardly bat an eye.’ _

Ben was almost ashamed of himself for never questioning where everything came from at the start. But he had been so busy those first few months; becoming a member of the high council, being assigned by the senate to be a Jedi general, getting the army organized in any meaningful way, Anakin being knighted and then receiving his own padawan not long after, meeting the clones and having them essentially build up all military protocols from scratch, not to mention the battles and the bloodshed that was peppered throughout these adjustments. 

_ ‘Yes it's no wonder no one ever really took the time to question. We all had far too much on our plates to look a gift horse in the mouth. If I had any time to think about how convenient everything was, I don't think I could have ever fought in the war.’ _

The clones had essentially been ready order slaves, made to die so that more “sentient” beings could live. As if every single one of those men had not been his own independent person. 

Everyone knew but they could never bring themselves to say it. 

Saying it would make what they were doing real and they would have no choice but to all but forfeit the war. The Republic would never recognize them as full citizens for that exact reason. 

Of course Obi-wan had wondered what the clones thought about the war but he never really asked, couldn't bear to hear the answer that he had led unwilling men to their deaths.

_ ‘And now I'll never know. I can’t even ask them now that I'm in the past.’ _

_ ‘I don't even think they would answer me. Whatever had happened to them during the fight they would probably just kil---’ _

_ ‘No. Stop. Don't think about that. Don't think about it. Let it go for now.’ _

Obi-wan needed to get to Kamino. Whatever had happened with the clones, surely Kamino had the answers. 

Ben put his head in his hands and just tried to breathe. There was so much he needed to fix and he had so little information. He needed to stop the war, save the Jedi, free the clones, and kill the Sith master.

_ ‘Where do I even start to change the future, if I even can!’  _

Obi-wan knew little about time travel but the possibilities for universe destroying paradoxes were a definite concern and one he did not have the energy to think on just yet. 

One thing was for certain though, he couldn't call the temple now. Even in his own time the council had a hard time believing in the Sith until Maul had returned. They wouldn't believe in a war in the future orchestrated by the Sith where clones kill all the Jedi. Even if he allowed them to see his memories it wouldn't hold up as evidence in the senate- he needed tangible proof for action to be taken. If he returned to the temple, they would keep him there indefinitely. Obi-wan had never heard of any Jedi being able to time travel as he had and they would definitely have tests and questions for him. They would hold him so long he would never be able to do the things he needed to. 

Also, he would easily be identified as Obi-wan. If not from looks and force signature alone, then by blood. Out there, living blissfully unaware of what the future would bring, was another version of Obi-wan and a child version of Anakin. He couldn't disrupt their lives, couldn't make them carry the burden of the annihilation of the Jedi. They were far too young and inexperienced .

Obi-wan needed a plan. There were just too many factors to consider for him to go off haphazardly. He needed information first and foremost so that is where he would start. His best chance for that would be the Trade Federation.

He also needed a way onto Kamino without them reporting him to someone.

And there was the council and himself he needed to-

“Master Jedi?” Iruk called as he entered the room. Ben startled to his feet and fussed with his robes; disliking being caught in thought. He would have to think about all of this more later. “Have you completed your call?” At Obi-wan’s nod the pale man entered fully. “I have secured you passage on a local merchant ship heading to Eriadu. Apologies but I have been unable to find anyone traveling to Coruscant in the immediate.”

“That's more than acceptable, Minister. Thank you for your consideration.” He gave a full bow, bending low at his waist. Iruk gave off a pleased feeling and gestured Obi-wan to follow.

“You never said what brought you Utapau Master Jedi. Is it something I need to be concerned with?”

“Oh no, you can rest easy. I was here on personal business.” 

Iruk looks to him in hopes of an elaboration, which he will not receive, as Obi-wan cannot think of a convincing reason for him to be here or for why he's in the state that he is. The merchant ship he is led to is large and busy being loaded with cargo. 

“It will be some time before they are ready to depart but the captain wished to speak with you.” Iruk stops just before the landing platform.

“Your hospitality has been most generous Minister Iruk.” Obi-wan says drawing on his most formal and polite training.

“Yes, and it was a pleasure meeting you master Jedi. May your travels see you well.” Iruk gave a slight bow before primly walking back toward the city. 

_ ‘I guess I’ll be leaving Utapau now.’  _

Only this morning had he been fighting the last general of the Separatists. And only a bit over an hour ago his own men tried to kill him. Now, he was in the past, depending on the charity of strangers and trying to develop a plan to save the entire galaxy. 

_ ‘The Force certainly has a sense of humor.’  _


	4. Merchant

The merchant turned out to be an older Siniteen dressed in rich fabrics with a boisterous voice that Obi-wan could hear clear across the landing platform.

“Ah, hello there master Jedi. I am Soont Hanne.” The man makes a broad gesture and Obi-wan starts to get the same headache he gets when dealing with Hondo. “When serah Iruk asked me if I was willing to give a Jedi a ride to my next port, I was most surprised.” Hanne takes in his appearance and, if the scowl that appears on his face is any indication, Obi-wan is found very much wanting. “And here I find you looking like you came out of hyperspace backwards. This will not do.” 

The Siniteen all but grabs Obi-wan by the arm, dragging him towards the ship.

“Jedi have an aesthetic which simply can  _ not _ be overlooked. We all must look our rank, yes?” Hanne spoke with an obviously forced highborn Milevan accent. _ Probably ‘new money’ then _ .

“I planned to ask you how you became stranded on such an out of the way planet as Utapau but it looks to me like you have had more than your fair share of trouble for your journey so I will not pry.” The ‘though I severely want to’ went unsaid. 

They entered into what was obviously the captain's suite and Obi-wan was quickly ushered to a large closet. The whole space was lavishly decorated like a state room. 

Hanne pulled out several outfits, all of which were far too ostentatious for his taste. “Hmm, brown does not suit you. How about a forest green? Or maybe a red?” The Siniteen tithered as he held up one garment after the next.

“Pardon me, but I'm afraid I don't have any credits, for either clothes or passage.” Obi-wan had hoped that Iruk had told the merchant as much. It would be unfortunate to not be allowed to remain on the merchant’s ship but Obi-wan would not be overly troubled by it. Obi-wan could already tell Hanne was going to be a bit much, so far proving himself to be loud and demanding.

Hanne tilted his head backwards to give him a pitying look. “Yes, I know. But you seem to be a bit more frazzled than I suspect a Jedi should be. It's no trouble, I have credits aplenty. Instead what you shall pay with are a few good stories.”

His expression must have held some confusion as Hanne went on “Well you see, my crew is made entirely of droids so the only time I speak to anyone during my voyages is when we land and even those are short lived.” he held a voluptuous purple shirt to Obi-wan’s chest “It will take a few days to get to Eriadu. And while we travel you shall regal me with tales from the fascinating life of a Jedi. Delstee will be so jealous when I tell her I met a real-life Jedi.”

“Ah...that won't be too difficult.” Obi-wan said, stroking his beard. “However, I would rather like to blend in once we land and these exquisite garments would be a bit conspicuous.” He gestured to the plethora of multicolored monstrosities. He would look more like the queen of Naboo than a Jedi wearing those.

“Yes, I suspect your right.” Hanne conceded crestfallen. “You Jedi do seem to lean toward the more austere.”

Hanne turned about with a flourish, long robes sweeping around him. Obi-wan almost wanted to cringe because it vaguely reminded him of the Jedi and their penchant for unnecessarily dramatic robes.

“I do have some leftover spacer wear from back when I had a crew. Though I'm not sure the condition they're in.”

“I think those would do quite nicely.”

“I'll have them brought to your cabin. But you will  _ not _ be wearing them while aboard this ship. Can you imagine? Me, allowing a Jedi to wear something of such questionable quality? Ridiculous.” Yes, this man definitely reminded him of Hondo, if Hondo were more aristocratic.

A silken green minguo robe was pulled out of distinctly Neimoidian make. “This will do, I think. Go remove those spoiled things and go use the sonic.” Hanne all but commanded. 

Having little choice with such a pushy host, Obi-wan soon stood in the refresher, startled by his own appearance. 

_ ‘Drowned loth-cat indeed _ .’ He looked terrible. Hair damp and flat against his scalp, clothes no better but with the addition of dirt, scorch marks, and blood from an arm wound he hadn't even noticed. But most strikingly, his eyes were red rimmed and blood shot, giving him a manic look. The eye on his right side was also mostly red; the sclera filled with blood from burst veins. It was a wonder anyone had talked to him at all, let alone offered to help him. 

He also looked dreadfully sad. No matter what expression he made in the mirror they all seemed forced and unconvincing. He simply could not make his eyes  _ shine _ . Whatever light had been left in his eyes by the end of the war had been soundly snuffed out along with the lives of the Jedi.

Obi-wan could still feel it. The hole in his chest where the other Jedi should have been. He had been trying so hard not to think about them, at least not as individuals. Luminara, Quinlan, Shaak, Plo, Mace...Anakin. He had felt them, he knew exactly what they felt as they fought against the men they considered friends and, for Plo, as sons. He had suffered their loss, the breaking of bonds forged over a lifetime. 

They were alive now. Alive and far away. Obi-wan knew that if he sunk down into the Force enough he would be able to see their light, their Force signatures, even across the galaxy. Like distant stars they would appear to him, but they would be there warm and bright and _ alive _ . But they weren't the people he knew, the people he had fought besides, the people he lo...cared for.

They would not know him. They would not share his scars or his memories.

No. He was alone.

_ ‘I can't think about this right now. Not yet.’ _

He released what grief he could into the force. It didn't seem to be all that effective, he still felt the weight of their loss like a stone in his core.

He stripped down and let the sonic shower do what it could. Then he went to the sink and he used a torn fragment of his robe to wipe himself down with water. When he was as clean as he could hope to be, he did another run through the sonic. 

By the end he looked less grungy but no less exhausted. 

He looked for a medkit but could not find one and so resolved to put himself into a healing trace at night. It would not be enough to completely heal himself though. He knew he had several fractured, if not broken, ribs, a dislocated shoulder, possible internal bleeding, and a most definite concussion. And those were just the ones he could categorize off the top of his head. 

But he was a Jedi and had fought in far worse condition. He could hold on at least until they made it to Eriadu. He couldn't let himself fully feel anything yet. He had to hold on until he was safe. He would just release what pain he could into the force and treat what he could while in his trance.

Hanne was absent when he stepped out, for which he was grateful, and his outfit was laid out along with some slippers. He dressed slowly, his aches making themselves apparent. When he was done, he slipped out into the hallway where a droid stood waiting.

“Greetings master Jedi. Please follow me to your quarters.” 

They traveled down a level to what must have been the crew's rooms and he was led into the largest. “This is the first mate's cabin. Please make yourself comfortable. Lunch will be served in approximately thirty minutes in the galley. I'll return then to escort you.” 

The door slid shut and he was alone again. The room was decent and clean and two large crates sat in the center of the floor.

A frivolous use of the Force had the lids off and the clothes hovering in the air. They smelled of old musk and grease and Obi-wan could see why Hanne refused for him to wear them; they were nearly worse than his own clothes. 

Several pieces were far too large for him or made for a different species, but he did make some good finds with belts, bags, cloaks, and a vibroblade. The various jackets, pants, and shirts he would have to try on after lunch. He had hoped to find a mask he could wear but no such luck. He would have to make a head wrap from one of the cloaks.

_ ‘I certainly won’t look like a Jedi in these. Who would have guessed that one day I would be emulating Rako Hardeen in fashion.’  _

His lightsaber was going to be difficult to disguise. Obi-wan would not be going without it but it was far too recognizable to simply leave it hanging from his belt. The belt from his robes would also have to go so he would need to come up with a way to attach his saber.

_ ‘Maybe if I did a clip like Cody I cou-.’ _

Obi-wan chest constricted and he curled in on himself, head pressed into his knees. ‘ _ Cody. _ ’ Cody had been the last person Obi-wan had seen. All smiles, and confidence, and excitement for the end of the war.  _ That _ had been Cody, Obi-wan just knew. Not whatever it was that had tried to kill him. Obi-wan knew Cody, had felt his regard as a fellow vod, had known him to care about the Jedi. The Cody who had kept his saber safe was his friend, the man who ordered his execution was just a husk wiped blank of all he was. 

_ What had happened in those moments between our conversation and their attempt on my life? Cody wouldn't have shot me down, that is just a fact. But then why? Why had my friend tried to...to...kill me? _

His breath hitched and he pulled his legs closer. Obi-wan felt the trembles start at his shoulders and he knew what was coming. But he could not let it happen. Not yet.

_ Please. Not now. Hold on just a little longer. _

With the strength of will he had cultivated all his life, Obi-wan brutally pushed his emotions down. He could not break down here. He was a Jedi and Jedi did not allow their emotions to overwhelm them. He had to master this. Obi-wan pushed a substantial amount of will, imbued with the Force, at the roiling emotions inside of himself. He was able to wrangle the most crushing feelings to the back of his mind. Obi-wan knew he could not go on avoiding these thoughts forever no matter how hard he tried to. They would be coming and if he was not ready, they would pull him under and he might never resurface. 

He had always been able to at least bury his feelings deep enough that they did not interfere in his day to day. It is what he did for all the other tragedies of his life. But this, this was so much more.

Obi-wan forced himself into a meditative lotus pose and focused on regaining his center. Breathing in and out and keeping his mind from focusing on all that had gone wrong in the last few hours.

The droid returned a bit later and took him to the galley. Obi-wan had managed to calm down by then and ensured that he had set his features into that of a tranquil Jedi. He did not need his host seeing how close he was to falling apart.

Hanne was already seated and seemingly waiting for him before beginning his meal.

“Ah Jedi! Come, come. I am excited for our first conversation.” The seat across from him was pulled out with a bowl of soup and bread already in place. 

“Thank you Soont.” he said as he lowered himself gently into the chair. He was certain bruises were forming all along the side he had hit the water with.

Hanne’s forehead creased suddenly “I cannot believe my rudeness! I have not asked your name yet! My sincerest apologies.”

“Oh no, it's fine. My name is...Ben. Please, just call me Ben for now.”

“Ah. Jedi business, right? I understand. We all have things we must keep to ourselves. Though I do hope that won't keep you from telling me of your adventures.” Hanne spoke from behind his wine glass.

“No, I can think of several very interesting missions I have taken part in.” He said leaning back in his chair.

“There was the time when I was a padawan and my master and I had to dress as Nabrakian servant women to help the then royal prince to escape the palace to broker a peace deal.”

Hanne’s eyes glittered as he set his cup aside, his entire focus on Ob-...

_ ‘Ben.’ _

_ ‘I’m Ben now. If I tell anyone my true name it will lead right back to this times Obi-wan. I can't drag them into this.’ _

“I knew I was making the right choice bringing you along. Please, by all means, continue.” Hanne was smiling, his presence filled with nothing but intrigue and delight. 

The man had given him free passage and clothes, telling a few stories would be the least he could do. Even better if it kept his mind off of his own time traveling situation.

“Well it all began with a strange request from the Duke of the moon Omicron-Persei Eight…”

\---

Ben startled awake the following morning. He was breathing erratically and couldn't seem to make sense of his surroundings. It was an unfamiliar room. The separatists. The separatists must have him. He tried to stand but quickly fell forward, caught up in sheets wrapped around his legs. Pain. He hurt. His legs felt like jelly and he Could. Not. Get. Them under himself. 

In front of him were crates. _ ‘Crates. Clothes. Hanne. Ship. Utapau. Past. Breath.’ _

_ ‘I’m okay. I’m okay. A dream. I was having a dream, a nightmare.’ _

He remembered now the day before and all its impossibilities, proven real by the cabin he was in and the still opened crates on the floor.

But his dream. His dream of death and betrayal. Of seeing into the eyes of his comrades as mindless clones gunned them down. Mace choking on his own blood on the floor of the temple, the younglings he had tried to protect scattered dead behind him. Luminara staring in anguish as her ex-padawan Barriss slowly stabbed her through the chest. Anakin being shot in the back by Rex who looked on with dead eyes as the rest of the 501st took aim at Anakin's prone body. So many. Too many. 

Ben knew it had been no vision. Some of the things he saw were impossible as Barriss was in prison and Rex had been lightyears from Anakin when the attack happened. But the fear and pain was very much the same as the real thing. 

Ben wouldn't sleep tonight. Not if this was what was waiting for him. 

He went to the sink and washed away the stale sweat that clung to his face. The eyes in the mirror looked no better than yesterday only made worse from the dark rings beneath them. 

He dressed again in his borrowed robes and went to breakfast with Hanne, already considering what stories he could tell the man.

Only a day more before they reached Eriadu and Ben needed to figure out what he was going to do.


	5. A Beginning

The days aboard Hanne’s ship goes by quickly and soon they are making port at one of the planet's many trading cities. Eriadu sits at the intersection of four major hyperspace routes and thus is one of the Outer Rim's most active trade centers. Anything Ben could ever need to start a new life, he could find here.

“Well master Ben, it seems our time together is at an end.” Hanne says as he embraces Ben. Over the course of their journey Ben had discovered how tactile Hanne was in his approval. A day had not gone by that he had not received a hearty pat to the shoulder or a playful slap to the arm, though Ben had not managed to completely keep himself from flinching yet.

Flung over his shoulder was a bag containing what clothes from the old crew that, conceivable, fit. If they were a bit too small or, in some cases, way too large, the only thing that mattered was that they were clothes. Additionally, was the Neimoidian robes which Hanne had bequeathed to him with the statement ‘those are so out of fashion now it would be shameful to have them in my closet.’

“I thank you, Captain Hanne. You have been most generous, and I wish you the best of fortune in the future.” Ben gave a deep bow, trying to convey just how much the Siniteen had helped him without saying anything.

“A wish from a Jedi! Now I'm certain to do well!” he clapped his hands and tilted his head back with a guffaw before he suddenly fell serious. His yellow, pupilless eyes searched his face for a moment before giving up with a sigh. “Whatever it is that has happened to you, I hope what your searching for here helps...The clothes are yours my friend. May they serve you well.”

Ben leaned back in surprise, meeting Hanne’s smirk with a slightly disgruntled expression. With a final curt nod Ben turned and walked away. 

His foot had just touched off of the landing pad before Hanne called out at his back “And for The Great Mother’s sake Ben, take a bath! You smell like a Hutt!”

Before Ben could respond the man was disappearing back into the hull of the ship laughing to himself. 

Soon enough though he was walking away from the merchant's ship and onto the new path of his life.

A few days of planning had not yielded much in terms of a plan. 

Ben knew he needed to get evidence of the Sith lords' machinations and the only people who could possibly help him with that was Dooku, Maul, or the Trade Federation which had already worked with them for the invasion of Naboo. 

He would have to start with the Trade Federation as it was the least likely to get him killed or discovered.

But before he could begin that, he had a few people he needed to save; namely Ventress and Anakin’s mom, Shmi.

By the end of the war, Ventress had been more of an ally than an enemy. Or, at least, not an active problem. While they had been on opposite ends of a saber more times than he cared to count, Ben undoubtedly found her compelling and knew her to be conflicted. She had saved his life when Maul and Savage had him cornered and he owed her for helping Ahsoka evade capture during the temple bombing incident when Ben could not. 

And while his time in her castle's dungeons on Rattatak had been an ongoing torment, what he learned there had given him far more perspective into what had made her Fall. And so much of it wasn't her fault. She had been a slave and was saved by a man she would come to idolize. He had been a Jedi, stranded and forgotten, who would teach her the ways of the Force and who treated her more like a daughter than she would have ever known. And then the man who had become her chosen master was murdered in front of her, leaving her alone on a world built on suffering. It was only once Ben returned to the temple to look into the mysterious lost Jedi that he found his name to have been Ky Narec.

Then Dooku gave her another master and a new cause, one that allowed her to fight against the order who she felt forsook her and her master.

It was no wonder she Fell and worked so hard against those she considered to have abandoned her. 

Ben felt for Ventress because of how close her story was to his own. He too had watched his master be killed and had also felt the rage that drove him to butcher Maul. But Ben had had the Jedi to support him, had Anakin as a reason to continue on in the light. Without them, he would have drowned in the loss of his master. Ventress had been alone. Alone, on a hostile world, with nothing but her father's murderers and her own former slave masters. 

Saving her now would spare her so much pain. She wouldn't Fall, wouldn't become a commander of the Separatists, wouldn't be cast aside only to lose everything again. Ben could spare her that much. 

And Shmi...Well, Shmi was always a mark of shame for Ben. He had never met the woman but Anakin had spoken about her often as a child. Often asking if he could go see her or when they would be going back to free her. It had broken Ben’s heart to see Anakin's face contort to misery every time he was told to let her go. The council had forbidden any contact between them because they said Anakin was already older than preferable and any further time with her would only make him more attached. Ben, in his foolishness, had agreed. Eventually Anakin stopped asking and Ben had been silently grateful. 

They were already being closely monitored and he hadn't been willing to risk any unsanctioned trips to the out-of-the-way world. And if they had, he couldn't have freed her. Jedi were not supposed to interfere in the trades of worlds beyond their jurisdiction. And if he somehow managed for them to meet in secret, he would have had to separate them all over again when it was time to return to the temple. He had thought it would be better to not force that separation a second time.

But now, after everything, these excuses rang hollow. The Jedi, and he himself, had left a woman to suffer because it would be inconvenient and against tradition to allow her to see her son. Where is the compassion in that?

Ben had never learned what became of Anakin’s mother. He liked to believe Anakin stories of his master Watto’s overall leniency would have kept Shmi in relative wellbeing. But slavery was a slow torcher all its own and one she shouldn’t have been left to suffer. 

In Ben's time the Jedi Order had failed both women due their negligence and inaction. Here,  _ now _ , Ben had the freedom and knowledge to liberate them and, by the stars, he would. 

_ Yes. It's all well and good, but I have no way to reach them. I will need a ship if I ever hope to save them.  _

Ben of course could steal a ship but take would open up a whole host of problems that he didn't want to deal with. He needed his own ship, one that was legal and irreproachable.

All of this was going to require credits which he did not have. Ben was sure Hanne would have had few qualms about parting with a few credits, but Ben did not want him asking questions. He had nothing of value either save for his lightsaber and that was sacrosanct. For any reputable job he would need his identity card and number which he could not use because of his younger self.

Like every highly traveled world, Eriadu had a large crime underworld. He needed information but it always cost something this far in the other rim. Doing mind tricks out here was liable to get him killed, too many witnesses and far too many strong personality and wills. 

He couldn't approach the Jedi, nor could he use his council codes to safely remove credits from their accounts. He could not get a legal job, at least not without a fake ID card which in itself would cost money. Risking Force compelling people into giving him money was bound to run into trouble and was against his moral code; the same was true for stealing.

_ Hmm...It seems like my time as Rako Hardeen is finally, really doing me some good. Now I not only dress like him, but I'm going to have to all but become him to make it off this world. I'm going to have to become a bounty hunter if I ever hope to make the needed credits in a timely manner. _

Ben had never been a bounty hunter per say, though he had all the requisite skills. He had hunted people down, following their trail of clues. He had fought criminals to a standstill and taken them into custody. But those were all legal arrests and he had never been paid for them.

There were few Judicials this far into the outer rim but there was local law enforcement. Even if he did not currently hold the title in this time, he was still a Jedi. He would take no jobs that were unethical; no slave retrievals, no hostage taking, no assassinations.

The easiest place to find legitimate, government sanctioned bounties was the local police station. Immediately to the left of the door was a bounty tracer dispensary. Anyone who the police needed capture had their profile available. All one had to do was accept the bounty, no questions asked.

The easiest of them were the bounties out for people who had skipped their court date. Ben closed his eyes and let the force guide his selection. For a moment he felt nothing until one lit in the Force and was selected. He did not even look at the mark as the Force was already guiding him out of the station.

The Force pulled Ben forward like a soft wind at his back and soon he was walking down a nearby alley, where, sitting plan as day, was his target.

_ Well, that was easy. _

_ Perhaps this bounty hunting thing will be easier than I think. _

The human man was obviously high on spice and barley moved as Obi-wan hauled him to his feet. 

The officers seemed surprised he had already found one and happily paid out the man's 150 credit bounty.

Now that he had a few credits, first things first. He needs to find somewhere to stay for the night, then some food, clothes, then weapons. If he was going to play bounty hunter he may as well look the part. 

The room he found was in the scummiest part of town but was cheap and they asked no questions. It was 28 credits a night and so he bought two nights. He would need to make sure the room wasn't set up to gas its visitors to steal their possessions, but a roof and the promise of a water shower was more than he could have asked for.

He didn't go to the room immediately knowing that if he saw the promised shower he wouldn't have the will to go get the other supplies he needed. 

Despite Eriadu being a major trade world, it did not have the dedicated stores of single credits that most core worlds had. Instead it had a traditional bazaar style market.

Here Ben bought a few days worth of preserved food, water, soap, a body cleaning cloth, and a fairly well stocked medkit. This quickly ate into his credit supply and he only had 52 credits left. He needed clothes and weapons but for Ben the most important issue was his shoes. His jedi boots had been waterlogged and were absolutely ruined. He had to trade them for shoes that were several times too large from the clothes Hanne had. First and foremost, he needed some new sturdy boots that at least fit, quality was something he could worry about later.

He found some for 30 credits and bought them gratefully, he could start wearing them tomorrow, after he was clean and had tended to his injured feet.

Amongst the stalls was a man selling spices from across the galaxy. Among his wares were several teas from various sectors. How Ben longed to buy up the man's stock so that he might sequester himself in his room with flavored beverage. But each tea proved too expensive and he could not justify his frivolous wants with his impoverished reality. Had he still been a High Jedi General he may have just purchased the man's entire stock. But he wasn't and he couldn't and he moved on.

_ Only 22 credits left…Perhaps I can sell or barter away the clothes from Hanne... Something to worry about tomorrow. _

Ben could feel this body's exhaustion. He couldn't remain on his feet much longer.

The room was as shoddy as he expected but had a bed and a shower so it was better than he could hope.

He slipped into the refresher, almost giddy in his excitement for the opportunity to be  _ clean _ . He was nowhere near his preferred immaculate, composed look. Anakin would have said he was fussy, or prissy, or finicky, or any other number of unflattering words but Anakin had never seen the utility of presentation. 

He stripped down with a grimace. The healing trances he had attempted on Hanne’s ship had not been as fruitful as he had hoped. He could not relax himself enough to fall into the required depth of his psyche to do much good. His bruises had bloomed and his entire left side was a portrait of colors, with a deep blue black being the dominant, then extending to greens and yellows across his chest. Now Ben was certain that at least one rib was broken. He would need medical treatment. Ben was no healer and this was more damage than he could deal with on his own. He had scabbed over cuts that glowed with a bright red, warm with probable infection. He was pale and visibly shaking. Deep rings were under his eyes giving him a ghastly appearance. His left eye at least was not as filled with blood, the veins healing. This small improvement was overshadowed by the bright, near feverish, sheen his eyes now held.

A heavy sigh followed him as he climbed into the shower. The hot water hit him and he almost collapsed to the floor. It felt amazing and painful all at once. He decided that sitting in the basin would be the safest option. Minutes passed and soon the water flowing off him stopped being a dirty red and ran clear. He washed himself and then simply sat beneath the water for a long time letting the heat soak into his sore muscles. Eventually the water started to grow cold and he was forced to get out.

The medpack had a few things of bacta, some wraps, ointment, a stim, and 3 hyprosprays. Ben did what he could for his injuries. Reopening his cuts and treating them properly then using a single hyprospray and saving the others for the morning. The bacta patches he placed on his face and side, though they would do little good as his injuries were deeper than the gel could reach.

He wanted to do a healing trance but he didn't trust his surroundings enough to go deep enough for such a meditation.

Hardly sparing the time to dry himself, Ben collapsed into the bed. It was by no means a quality mattress but it was far softer than some of the places Ben had slept in. 

Ben closed his eyes and prayed to the Force that he would not have another nightmare. But hours later he was still awake. 

Ben couldn't sleep. Years of being on star destroyers or in the field with his men meant that he had a hard time sleeping without the sound and their presence. At least with Hanne he had had the sound. Now it was too quiet. Even at the temple he had the presence of his fellow jedi to sooth him. Now it was so quiet and so empty of his friends. He felt exposed.

The tears come immediately. He had been trying so hard not to think about it. About the deaths of his family, of the betrayal of his men, of the rise of the darkside that he felt while he fell, the fact that he was in the past, in a world were all his friends he felt vanish were alive but were not yet the people he knew and never would be. 

He was alone in a way he had never been. Not on Bandomeer, not Kadavo, not Mandalore, never, never like this.

The tears and pitiful keening moans could not be held back. They tore their way from his throat and eyes.

There was so much. Too much. Where was he ever going to start. All of their lives now rested on his shoulders and he had no one to share the burden with. 

He should have released these feelings into the Force but he didn't want to. He wanted to feel this, to feel the loss. For it to build in his soul and become a pillar, a reminder and a monument, for what he would have to do. He would feel this tragedy alone so that no one else would have to. 

But by the stars did it hurt.

Ben sobbed to himself in the empty room, furniture in the room shaking as the force swirled around him. It was hollowing. He had lost everything and now it was back and he couldn't have it. Right now, another Obi-wan was living in blissful ignorance of all the sorrow that was waiting for him. And Anakin. Oh anakin. Something had happened to him, something dark and consuming. Over their yet broken training bond he had felt such a profound darkness, an overwhelming wave of rage and pain and heartbreak. 

And he wasn't there to help him. 

Anakin truly needed him now and he could not get to him.

_ I am sorry, Anakin. I have failed you. _

Ben pulled the coverlet into his arms and curled himself around it, openly weeping into its threads.

Ben thought back to his days in the creche where he would wake screaming and crying from a vision, not fully able to understand the tragedies he had seen but had known on a visceral level that it had been the suffering of others.

He remembered warm masters with gentle hands holding him as he bawled and whimpered into their arms. He remembered lips murmuring assurances into his hair and waves of Force energies pushing back against his nightmares.

Ben did not have that now.

He was alone.

Alone and tired and scared and the pain in his chest was going to crush him.

He was unmoored. Cast adrift in a universe he knew intimately but was not truly a part of. Ben had always had a place, a home, even if it wasn't always the temple.

Now he was detached. 

Unraveled.

Weightless and insubstantial, he did not feel a part of himself or this new universe. 

Spectral in a terrifying way.

As though he could lie here and drift into the Force itself. 

_ You knew this. You have known this for a long time. Infinite sadness. Infinite sadness is what you will always carry. It's what you are. It's what you know. _

And so Ben cried. He cried and mourned the loss of his old life and all the lives that were in it. 

It was in tears that he eventually was pulled into unconsciousness.


	6. How Does One Mourn At Nonexistent Graves?

The next day Ben couldn't get up. 

Everything was so heavy.

So wretched and broken and ruined.

So many things to regret and ponder and accept and endure.

So many things lost.

But he had to let himself feel it.

Ben wouldn't fight this.

He needed it. 

Needed to feel their loss.

Needed to feel.

And so he slept and wept and stared at nothing and thought of nothing as the universe turned around him.


	7. Mornings and Mourning

The following morning was hard. Both physically and mentally. Ben felt like if he moved now, he would set everything in motion. Once he got up, he would have to find a way to change it all. He would be placing that burden on himself. But if he just stayed, just stayed and let himself fade then he could be free. But he was a Jedi at his core and he had people who needed him, even if they didn’t know it yet. He had to get up, regardless of the staggering fatigue he felt. 

Ben had never allowed himself to feel like he had over the last cycle. Openly overwhelmed and internally battered by his feelings. He had been taught to set aside all emotions and he could see why. It had been an agony of dull pains, like his very soul was bruised. He knew that he had slipped near to the apathy of the darkside at his lowest point. Jedi were supposed to be able to allow those around them to join with the Force without mourning but Ben could not do that. The betrayal was so deep. The Jedi did not die in battle or in their sleep, but instead died fighting for a cause that was ultimately pointless, allowing for evil to consume the galaxy. Shot in the back by their friends on the cusp of victory. It was wrong and Ben could not allow himself to just let it go. Would not. Not until he insured nothing like it would come to pass now. Retribution was not the Jedi way but for him it was necessary.

_ I'm sorry masters but this is something I must do. For me, for you, for all of us. I must change what is coming. _

His mental shield would need to be shored-up, if not rebuilt. While he had some of the most impressive metal shields in the order, mostly due to Anakin's propensity to accidentally overpower others, namely him, with his emotions, they had not been sturdy enough to remain unaffected by the chaotic storm his thoughts had been. They had been shaken to their foundations and were very fragile. He still had their protection but it was flimsy at best. He would have to be mindful of the thought of others because as it stood, he would be weak to any mental outbursts.

And yet, for all of it, he almost felt better. He was not happy or content and he still felt the burden of this new world, but it was not as poignant now. Like his tears had taken with them some of the pain, leaving him hollowed out. Almost empty. 

No, not empty. Cathartic. 

It felt like it did when he released his emotions to the Force but somehow more real, more grounded. 

The separated, weightless feeling was gone. Ben felt heavy and real and present like he was an actual fixture of the galaxy and not some drifting phantom only tied to this existence through loss and pain.

The sadness was still there, resting in his chest with longing and duty. It would always hurt he knew, there would be no forgetting or lessening of what he had felt. Ben could only hope in time the feeling would fade. It would not be tonight or tomorrow because he already knew that at night he would be facing the same torment but maybe, after everything was settled and everyone was saved, his heart could release its own burdens.

It was enough that today he could move.

He bathed again and it almost made getting up worth it. He dressed in the old spacer clothes, rendering his bath virtually worthless, and gathered his things into his pack. There was no way he was leaving anything in the room.

He looked better at least; his wounds not so prominent but still there. He would need to go to a medicenter sometime today. Thankfully a lifetime in the disciplined Jedi and years with the regimented clones meant that Ben always awoke early in the morning. He had more than enough time to take care of his errands. He left the run down hotel and headed out to gather as many bounties as possible but first he needed some more supplies. 

Ben had the vibroblade from Hanne but to be taken seriously as a bounty hunter he would need a blaster. He could also use some new clothes.

Back to the market and with painfully few credits left.

As he stood mourning how few credits he had he felt a pull from the Force towards a nearby cantina. He followed, as you were supposed to do.  _ Always follow the will of the Force. _

Inside, he found a bar like every other in the galaxy but he was drawn to a table of people who, as luck would have it, were playing a game of sabacc.

The smile that grew on Ben's face was absolutely predatory. 

He wandered over to the table and earned several scrunched noses as they registered his frankly awful smell. He would feel more embarrassed about it if he didn’t think it would work to his advantage.

“Can I join in the next game?” he layered a thick outer rim accent onto his words, attempting to bury his high Coruscanti accent. 

“Buy in is 20 credits to start. And you don’t look like you have it.” the man said.

It was a fair point. Currently he looked like a spice addled vagrant.

“No, I have it. Come on, just one game.” he put on his best ‘I'm a compulsive gambler’ look. Ben did have the credits, if only just. That buy in price would leave him a paltry 2 credits if this game didn't work out in his favor.  _ Nothing ventured, nothing gained. _

The men all looked to each, a silent agreement passing among them. “Alright, next game you're in.”

Ben knew the men took him to be an easy mark for some quick credits and Ben was more than happy to allow them their assumption.

A bit later and Ben was seated around the table being dealt in. His own hand was average. Ben didn't even need the Force to see that the man on his left had nothing and the man in front was pleased with his cards.

_ These men’s tells are atrocious. It's a wonder they haven't been relieved from every credit in their pockets if they are this easy to read. _

“I've been gambling my whole life “Ben said, playing up their preconceived idea of him being a gambler who had lost everything. “I'm pretty good if I do say so myself.”

“Yeah you look like it.” the man said with a smirk. “A real king of kings.”

A wryly smile later and the game began. 

The game Ben played was virtually no game at all. Jedi were taught how to play games like this from the time they were initiates and then they played among each other for fun and to improve their skills. And with a master like Qui-gon, Ben was an excellent player and an even better cheat. Anakin was shocked when he had first revealed that he always cheated during their games, Anakin thinking his proper genteel attitude extended to the game, for which he was very much mistaken.

Ben had played against people who could read minds, see the future, turn cards invisible, and levitate items, who were all, in their own right, master cheaters.

Ben’s skills had only improved once the clones started playing the game. Master tacticians, the lot of them, and viciously cunning when it came to the small pile of credits and duty roster I.O.U’s they managed to amass.

These bar divers didn't stand a chance.

Ben walked out of the bar 130 credits richer and decided not to press his luck. He would buy whatever else he could carry and then head again to the police station.

‘ _ Maybe I should be a professional gambler _ ’, Ben laughed to himself. 

Ben was surprised how much better the game had made him feel. He had almost been relaxed while playing, nearly normal, like he was just on a mission like any other. He had even managed to think fondly of the people he lost without getting upset. 

He knew that he was more stable for having taken part in the semi-friendly game. The Force had known what he had needed and it had guided his way. 

His walk back to the market was decidedly better than the previous one. Ben nearly smiled.

He bought two of the cheapest shirts he could for 10 credits, but at least they were clean. He also got a loose pair of pants for 8 credits, and a set of underclothes for 13. Ben considered getting a blaster but looking at the price tags, they would have to be purchased some other time. The rest of his credits he would save for now.

Buying things was almost shocking for Ben. Everything seemed so expensive and he had so little a reserve to draw from. 

As a Jedi, everything he needed for day to day living was provided for by the Jedi, even paying a small stipend for them to buy whatever miscellaneous things they needed. Jedi owned nothing and so everything was requisitioned through the temple. Ben had never had to buy anything related to himself other than the occasional street food or while undercover on mission. Even starships were freely available. And the Jedi were funded by the senate, giving them a virtually unlimited amount of credits to draw from. Additionally, because the Jedi were given a sizable operating budget by the senate but hardly spent any of it, they had quite the stockpile of credits in their vault.

Ben had always been aware of money, but he had never had to live without its support. And so, to now have to be conscientious of every credit to such a degree, was jarring. 

_ Perhaps living as a Jedi isolated me more than I ever realized. It's unsurprising people felt disconnected from us. We did not exist on their level. _

Ben did not allow himself to dwell on the failures of the order for long. If he did, he would sink back into the miasma that had consumed him the day before and he had too much to do to allow it to happen a second time, no matter how much it had helped.

He returned to the police station and looked over the other available bounties. Unlike most bounties, these were open bounties meaning anyone could claim them and there was no limit on how many hunters could be assigned to each. Which would be a nuisance since that might mean Ben would be chasing down already apprehended quarries. Only a handful of bounties were single hunter bounties, and these presented a problem all their own by requiring them to be taken out with the bounty hunter guild.

Ben needed at least 10,000 credits for a ship and 15,000 for a ship that actually flew. The bail jumpers only paid between 50 to 500 credits. The higher ones were 1,000 to 5,000. In total, every open bail only accumulated to about 7,300 credits. The value for the guild bounties were unlisted but would certainly be much higher.

Ben let out a sigh, bowing his head and pinching between his eyes. At this rate he would need to join the bounty hunters guild. The guild was the organization that actually had most bounties, local police having little time for such pursuits when there were more than enough individuals willing to do the job for them. These small bounties would take forever to collect on as they were spread across the planet and some across the system. To say nothing of how long it would take to seek them all out. Time Ben did not have.

_ Why couldn't this be as easy as the last job. _

Ben looked at the quickly dwindling amount of credits in his pocket and grimaced. He definitely did not have enough to rent a speeder. 

_ Well I could go back to the sabacc table and hope for the best or I can take a few more low level bounties.  _

Gambling would certainly be easier but eventually people would notice he was no stranger to the game and would refuse to play him. That was not a bridge he was willing to burn just yet. 

The bounties would help him in terms of reputation, at least a little. The crimes and rewards may be small but they were still completed jobs. He could use that for credibility when he joined the Guild.

Ben accepted four bounties, most of which were more bail jumpers and petty thieves.

The first bail jumper was likely at her home and so Ben followed the address that marked her last known location. The apartment block listed was a fair distance away, but Ben had to run klicks during the war, and he had far more stamina than most. He was standing outside the woman's door within an hour. Ben used the Force to unlock the door from the inside and stepped into the small living area which was empty. A life force was in the bedroom however and Ben silently made his way towards it. The door was open and inside was a humanoid woman sprawled out on her bed, a half empty bottle of Bothan wine sitting on her nightstand. 

_ Well maybe this will be easy. _

Inebriated or hung over individuals were far more susceptible to force suggestions than those who were not intoxicated. And if this woman was drinking Bothan wine, she would definitely be intoxicated. Bothan systems had a more robust metabolism than most humanoids and their alcohol was notoriously strong. Thus the half empty bottle. Had she drunk more than that, she was likely to have gone comatose. 

Ben was still too injured to get in a physical confrontation and so he would need to rely on the Force for these jobs until he would get actual medical treatment. 

_ Well, there's nothing for it...  _

Ben gripped the woman with the Force and ripped her backwards off the bed, sending the startled woman crashing into the ground.

Before the flailing, cursing woman could fully rise from the floor, Ben knelt in front of her palm outward.

“You will follow me to the police station.” Ben intoned. The suggestion entering her mind easily as she seemed to have no natural shielding. 

Her eyes became glassy as she parroted “I will follow you to the police station.” The woman rose and stared vacantly towards Ben.

She was only in her underclothes and was not wearing shoes and Ben could not in good conscious make her walk through the dirty street bare footed.

“First, you will clothe yourself. Then we will leave.”

The woman nodded and began to search her floor for suitable clothes. Ben left her to it, returning to the main room.

Soon enough the pair were outside of the station.

“You will not remember any of what has taken place since you awoke. You will only recall that a bounty hunter came to collect you and forced you to accompany him.”

Ben was unwilling to risk knowledge of a Force sensitive vagrant getting out. He needed to lie as low as possible, for as long as possible

She mirrored back his words ensuring that the compulsion took and then they entered.

Ben walked out alone 200 credits richer.


	8. Medicine

Ben considered pursuing the other bounties but thought better of it as a particularly nasty twinge made itself known from his side. 

He couldn't ignore his injuries anymore. He had been steadily releasing his pain into the Force for several days now and at this rate he was probably hurting himself more than necessary. Any other time in his life he could continue to shut out the pain, as nothing would cause permanent damage once he was put into a bacta tank, but he no longer had that luxury. The resources of the GAR were far out of his reach.

Unlike Naboo, Mon Calamari, Alderaan, or any number of other highly developed worlds, Eriadu did not have a free clinic system. Ben only had 321 credits to his name, so whatever treatment they did would have to be under that amount. He hoped that it would be enough.

Walking into the nearest hospital was a bit anticlimactic. Usually he would be swamped by clones asking him about his injuries or his next orders. But here, hardly anyone looked up and the receptionist droid seemed as uninterested as its programming would allow. 

“Hello, I seem to be gravely injured. Might I see a medic?” 

Had the droid had the dexterity of facial features, Ben was certain it would have been giving him the side eye. As it was, he was led away to a small examination room where he was handed a medical gown with the instructions to change into them and await the examiner. He did not have to wait long because just as he had finished the arduous task of undressing and redressing with his screaming muscles, a standard 2-1B medical droid marched in.

“Explain your ailment as best you can.” ordered the 2-1B with no preamble. Ben preferred droids to sentenients when it came to medicine as he did not have to keep up appearances and they always cut right to the chase.

“Several fractured, possibly broken, ribs. Likely internal bleeding. Injured shoulder. Torn ligaments and definite pain coming from my left legs. Concussion. Any injury that would be common for falling from a great height is probably likely.” Ben rattled off. 

Had this been Apollo or Helix or Master Che or any other medic of the GAR or the temple, he would have received disapproving and shocked looks, followed by a long lecture on why he was wrong to leave his injuries unaddressed for so long. He definitely would have been confined to the medwing for as long as the medics could keep him there, probably going so far as to threaten him with sedation if he tried to leave without their permission.

The thought almost made him smile if not for the sudden wave of sorrow thinking about them brought. He would never have the chance to hear those lectures again, to have those wonderful bright people fuss over him. To laugh good naturedly as they mock threaten him with a sedative needle. No, they were gone. Gone and he was alone. 

Ben pulled in a long breath between his clenched teeth and willed away the tears that sprung unbidden to the edge of his eyes. 

He had wallowed in their loss enough. He would not allow himself to fall apart like he did the day before again. He needed to be strong now and act in a manner befitting a Jedi. 

He breathed deeply and with every exhale he allowed for a piece of his sorrow to disburse in the Force.

This droid wasn't them and it merely input the information into its internal file without comment. 

“Also credits are an issue so please keep the cost as low as possible.”

“What is your maximum range of expenditure? I will adjust your treatment plan accordingly.”

“About 300 credits. 200 preferably.” 

The droid was silent for a moment as it processed the new variables, speeding through cost analysis of treatment at hyperspace speeds. 

“That range is sufficient for treatment. You will receive several bacta injections and may require surgery depending on the state of your internal injuries.”

Ben merely nodded as he stood to follow the 2-1B who had turned to leave.

They entered a room with a single scan pad at its center. “Please stand on the indicated section and avoid moving for several moments. We will be performing a deep scan so some mild discomfort in your bones is to be expected.”

Once the scan was completed a holoprojection of himself appeared at a nearby terminal. It was not as bad as he had feared but he was far from healthy. He had an infection in the wounds on his leg and arm. He also had a fever that went along well with his confirmed concussion. His internal bleeding was negligible so that was a relief but the bones, muscles, and viens on his left side were all in some way mangled. Hitting the waters of Utapau had certainly done some damage. It was only thanks to his constant application of the Force that he had not collapsed yet.

“Your injuries are rather severe. It is astonishing that you remain functional.”  _ Functional...maybe from a certain point of view. _ “What is more concerning is the evidence of numerous previous injuries. It is clear you have been treated with bacta before as the scan uncovered many instances of accelerated healing. Requiring bacta treatment so often indicates a dangerous lack of self management in terms of your own health. You have been hurt far more than any medical professional can advise. You also have evidence of abuse and torture.”

Ben knew he did not paint a pretty picture in terms of overall health. He had been imprisoned, beatened, electrocuted, stabbed, choked, burned, and been in more ship crashes than he could count. There was probably no injury he had  _ not  _ sustained. He also knew his innumerable scars were not endearing him to the medical droid. 

“I'm a bounty hunter”

The droid focused its glowing yellows eyes at him, “Profesion is irrelevant when considering one's health and continued existence.” 

Though the 1B was answering in monotone, Ben had the feeling he was being chastised. 

‘All doctors are the same’ Ben thought wryly. 

“There is nothing to be done about the older wounds. Your current injuries can be solved with bacta injections, a hyprospray, two mechnosutures, and plexi-cast if you prefer, though it is not required if you have the means for rest without much movement. If movement is required, the plexi-cast is necessary for your bones to heal in alignment.”

Ben sighed at the prescribed treatment. “And this is the cheapest option? Not a bacta tank?”

“The time needed to fully treat your injuries completely would supperced your budget constraints by 269 credits. It would still exceed your budget limit by 126 credits if only submerged for half the needed time.” 

Ben sighed again, a habit he really needed to break, and asked “and how much will your prescribed treatment cost me? Minus the hyprospray as I already have one with me.”

“Very well. The cost of treatment will be 287 credits with the hyprospray removed.”

“And if I dont require the cast?”

“Though inadvisable, with the reduction of the cast, your cost lowers to 234 credits.”

Ben conceivable could use the Force to keep the broken bones in place long enough to heal. And if he could get to a safe enough location to go into a full healing trance, he might be able to heal the bone all together. The cost difference of 50 credits seemed hefty given how little he currently had but his next bounty had a value of 1300 credits which would more than make up for these expenses.

He would get the cast, that way he wouldn't need to divert any of his attention to keeping himself in perfect posture should things devolve into a fight.

“I submit myself to full treatment. Let's get this over with.”

The adjustment to his broken ribs was the most painful part of the process, as the bones scrapped against themselves as they were adjusted into their rightful positions. It was a deeply unsettling feeling, having your insides move about causing an ache that he could do nothing to alleviate.

The injections and sutures took less time and soon enough the cast was fitted across his chest and waist. The cast itself was a bland gray thing, produced and printed inside the hospital to perfectly suit his frame, but it did not lend itself to the eye. 

The 1B also administered a pain suppressant free of charge which was a pleasant surprise. Less pleasant was his checkout as he watched his credits diminish once again into the double digits. The whole affair took less than two hours but still cost him virtually every credit he owned.

But he definitely felt better. Without wasting so much of his focus on  _ not  _ feeling his injuries he felt more like himself. He also looked better. Without the sickly coloring of his bruises along his side and face or the pallid sheen of fever and infection, Ben almost looked healthy. He also had dressed in the new clothes he bought and he had to say, he almost looked respectable and better than he had in the last week.

_ A week. I've been in the past a full week now. _

The thought was sobering. He understood empirically what that meant but he had yet to come to term with the idea as a reality. Occasionally he would think that at any moment he would be awoken in his own time, having fallen into the most realistic vision of his life. Or perhaps he died in the fall and this was just sort of a last moment dream of what could have been. But for all intents and purposes, it truly seemed that he was existing in the past. 

He dreaded to think what had become of his time since his disappearance. Ben didn't even know if his time even existed anymore. And if it did...would he want to go back?

Brooding on these thoughts would get him nowhere. If he awoke in his original time then that was how it was supposed to be. What he needed to focus on was the possibility of making changes here and now. 

The slightly blue light of the nearby sun hung directly overhead. It was only a bit after midday so now that he felt far better he could pursue the remaining bounties. He just needed enough to rent a speeder.

_ First the guild, then a speeder, and then hopefully I am one arrest away from getting off this unsavory planet. _


	9. Guild

The remaining bounties were almost pitifully easy now that he was back to near health. He had even managed to build up his mental shields to an acceptable level after his breakdown had all but toppled them. Now that he wasn't devoting so much energy to keeping his physical pain from overwhelming him, he could devote his attention to keeping his emotional pain at bay. 

But even a barley healed Jedi master was more than most people could hope to take on. What was more, was that he had spent the last three years fighting an intergalactic war against an unending hoard of droids and a small cavalcade of Sith lords and warriors alike. Ben had been a High General, leading armies into battles the scale of which hadn't been seen since the last Sith war. He had fought beasts, droids, darksiders, and desperate men. He wielded the force like a second nature, and in this time when the universe felt lighter, his connection was even stronger than it was in the war. These petty criminals had no chance of escaping him. It was almost frightening how easily he subdued them, like they were unruly younglings.

Ben was almost chagrined at having captured them. It was widely unfair in his favor. However, they were criminals, and as a Jedi it was his responsibility to keep the peace. He tried hard not to think on how he only did it to help himself. 

_ Yes, I did it for me. But it was necessary. I have to get a ship. I have to get to Shmi and Ventress and the clones. Whatever it takes... _

One by one he turned them over to the local law enforcement. And soon he had a little more than 1000 credits. 

It was late by the time he made his way to the guild headquarters. 

On a backwater, crime riddled world like Eriadu it was not very difficult to find any given crime syndicate. The guild was no different.

Ben found the local broker inside an, for lack of a better word, upscale drug den. The place was lavishly decorated, verging on garish, covered in nauseating yellows and reds. The color scheme seemed to be designed to mimic the dens main product, deathsticks. 

It was disconcerting that so few of them moved upon his entry. Either they were too far gone to have taken notice of him or he fit in well enough that they thought him another customer. Both choices were unpreferable. 

The broker was an Umbaran woman at the bar who shone like a beacon in the vibrant room. Her pale skin, hair, and eyes making her seem like a phantom among the other patrons. 

Ben had no concept of how to approach her. He was very rarely trying to  _ join _ criminals. ‘ _ How would an aspiring bounty hunter act’  _ Ben wondered to himself.

Ben sat upon a stool a polite seat away from her and ordered himself and her a drink from the droid behind the counter. He knew she had turned to look at him, but he kept his eyes locked forward until he had the drinks in hand, only then turning to her.

He gently slid the glass to her, smiling as he said, “I hear you're the one to talk to about joining the guild.” It was less suave than his usual introductions and far more straight to the point, but he really didn't have time to be anything other than direct.

She gave him an obvious up and down though nothing showed on her face and he felt very little from her in the Force. Now that he could see her face, it was striking how similar to Ventress she looked, if the broker was a bit more on the gaunt side.

“You dont look like much.” She turned to sip her drink, purposely leaving a silence, a challenge to see if he would plead or try to persuade her.

Ben said nothing.

“I'm Mistress Delste, the local guild controller. You fuck up, you answer to me.” she didn't add any inflection to her words, still waiting for Ben to say something. He gave her a deferential nod and she continued, “Guild takes up to 15% of a marks bounty. Regular hunter rules apply. You still interested?” 

The fee was absurdly high and she knew it. He was supposedly coming in as a rookie and should be ignorant of the ins and out of the guild.

Ben never dropped his smile, but his eyes became hard and narrow. She was testing him.

Ben was tempted to see if a mind trick would take, his time as Qui-gon padawan giving him a slightly skewed idea of what was appropriate use of the Force when it came to criminals, but the possibility of it not working was too precarious to attempt. 

“I would think 10% is more than enough for a finders fee.” It was a gamble, but Ben couldn't afford to have so much taken from each job since he planned to have to do as few as possible. 

Delste's smile was the kind to cut glass and the same one Ben had seen a thousand times on criminals who thought it was intimidating. The thought that this woman believed she was a match for him, even in his current state of mind, was almost amusing.

“Well alright then. I have a few jobs open…”

“Actually, I have a bounty in mind.” He pulled up the holo of Eyan Ath. 

Mistress Delste looked over the bounty before pulling out a datapad and scrolling through the names.

“That one’s wanted for the murder of a planetary prosecutor. Bounty is 15,000 credits. That's a pretty big job for a novice.” 

“Oh, I don't think it will be a problem. I am a bit more skilled than I look.”

Her eyes darted down to his very obvious cast and back to his face with a quirked eyebrow and a challenging look.

“Occupational hazard I’m afraid.” 

The broker makes a noncommittal noise and takes another drink. “Is it also a occupational hazard to not carry a blaster?” she turns her impassive, pale eyes back to him, “You're not going to get very far.”

“Give me the job and it will be the next thing I get.” 

She stares at him for a moment before shrugging and inputting something into the datapad. 

“Name?”

“Ben.”

She looks to him to elaborate and he spreads his hands out in acceptance. “Just Ben.”

Delste rolls her eyes before finishing the hunter profile and having it dispense a silver ID card. 

“Here is your guild number and ID. You die, it's not my problem.”

“I wouldn't dream of causing you problems.”

The flat stare he received was on par with Mace Windu and he had just barely managed to keep from smirking. 

He got up to leave when she spoke again, “He was last seen two towns over in the warehouse district.” 

He pressed the card to his lips with a bow, “Then I bid you farewell madam.” The broker scoffed, shot back the rest of her drink, and walked deeper into the den, vanishing from sight.

A few streets away was another market but this one was more on the dangerous side. You try to swipe something here and you were liable to end up dead. But it was a good place to get a weapon and maybe even a ride.

A blaster was easy to get, what made it hard was finding one that had a stun setting. Most of the people on Eriadu didn't bother with stunning first. It took some searching but he found one, cheap too given how few wanted one with such an addition.

Finding a speeder was even easier but it was the price that made him balk. It was more than half of all he had, but he had no choice. As it was though, the cost of a speeder hit far less than it would have a day ago.

Within the hour he was off.

It was late, edging into early dawn, when Ben finally arrived in the right city. ‘City’ was probably giving it too much credit; it was more an industrial area, all gray monochrome buildings and warehouses. 

He wondered about the district for some time, expanding his range of senses. The district was massive and it was only because he could since life signs that he was able to bypass having to search each building individually. He could only feel some rodents and a few workers.

_ There. Three buildings down and one over. Multiple Force signatures. _

As it became quickly apparent, Eyan Ath was not alone. As Ben stood outside of the building, he could feel more than a dozen other life forms within the nondescript building. Ben knew from experience that this was not right, no other building had more than six beings within it.

His saber was a comforting weight on his hip, concealed though it may be. Using his saber here would certainly give him away and that wasn't a risk he was willing to take. Ben wouldn't kill these men if he could help it and so, whatever he did here, those men would be around to tell others. He couldn't allow his presence to become common knowledge. 

Jedi hardly ever use blasters. They are not the Jedi way. Uncivilized and barbaric, there was no mercy in using them. A lightsaber can be used for defense or attack and their users are in complete control of what damage they inflict. A blaster bolt is uncontrollable and worse, virtually unstoppable to someone without the Force. Blasters were for killing, not protecting.

But that did not mean Jedi did know how to use them. They were proficient in multiple types of combat, and blasters were no different. And Jedi could be exceptional marksmen.

Also, he  _ had _ just taken down the separatist general Grievous with one not so long ago, so perhaps they had their place with him.

Ben couldn't just walk into the front door either, that would have them shooting at him immediately and he would have no cover. The warehouse has several skylights though, and Ben jumped and landed on the roof in near silence. 

From one of the lights he has a clear line of sight into the vast room. On the far wall were lines and lines of crates. On the opposite end were two dozen or so men in rebreathers, packaging what was clearly spice.  _ This planet is positively riddled with the stuff. A day has not gone by that I have not interacted with that damnable drug. _

And in the middle, far enough away that the spice particles would have minimal effect, was Eyan Ath. Around him several others gathered around a holoprojecter showing a game of nuna-ball. 

The ones packaging where obviously a part of the group as their minds gave off no concern and were overall bored with their mindless tasks. Calling out for updates on the game and making conversation among themselves. 

Ath was a part of a spice production and smuggling ring. It was no wonder he had killed the prosecutor; they probably were going to charge one of their gang and they couldn't let that happen.  _ This simple hunt just became far more complicated. _ This new information should not have enraged Ben as much as it did, but it did. 

The prosecutor had just been trying to do what was right and had been slaughtered for it. It wasn't right. Ben couldn't help the connection to the Jedi that arose in his mind. People, just trying to do what was  _ just,  _ being mindlessly killed.

To say that Ben had little patience for murders at the moment would be an understatement. While they were usually below his purview, he had dealt with those who had killed. But having just lost everything to the wanton murder of his family, he knew he would not be acting as mercifully as he otherwise would. 

These men had killed. Killed and enjoyed it and here they were acting as though they had not a care in the world. Ben could feel a rage bubbling up inside himself.

He had lost everything to murder and these  _ scum _ reveled in it. 

The Force shook around him and he took it for the warning it was. 

_ There is no emotion, there is peace. _

_ There is no emotion, there is peace. _

He repeated the Codes line again and again in his mind but the peace it promised did not come. His mental state was slipping. He needed deep meditation, needed to seek out these dark areas of his heart and let the emotions go. But he couldn't do that right then so he just tried to push the feeling deep down so that it would not interfere with his mission.

He set the blaster to stun. He may be angry but he would not kill these men. He would not.

_ Breathe. Push your anger away. Deep, deep down. Breath. _

He opens a window so that he can drop in. He is pulling in deep, calming breaths right up until he pulls the trigger. He hoped his tenuous calm would be enough.

He hits Eyan Ath first. A single stun blast directly into his chest.  _ He won't be getting up for a while. _

As soon as the others see Ath fall to the floor they jump to their feet, but not fast enough before two more have already been hit. They scatter like insects and Ben loses his clear lines of fire. They pile behind toppled tables and crates, taking aim at his open window. He had more cover here but he would be unable to hit any of them with his viewpoint. 

He easily drops down the mere ten meters and takes cover behind a finished pallet of refined spice. The cast around his stomach makes bending down difficult and he resolved to go into a healing trance once all this was over. He needed his flexibility and mobility if he hoped to save, or stop, anyone.

Unlike Ben, the spice traders were aiming to kill and beams of red wized around and past him. For the moment he was trapped behind his cover. 

He couldn't just run out into the fray without being hit and he didn't have his armor to protect him if he did.

‘ _ Sorry Cody for every time I complained about wearing some. _ ’ he thought wryly. 

The fire fight raged around him, and the men were slowly making their way towards him. He would be surrounded and pinned down soon enough. He wasn't irritated, because a Jedi master was never irritated, but he was definitely displeased that he couldn't use his saber to simply deflect the blasts without outing himself. 

But something was off. He was starting to become a bit fuzzy in his thinking. The colors in the rooms were getting brighter and a bit painful to look at. 

_ Ah. Right. Spice.  _

In their attempts to hit him, the foolish dealers were taking shots directly to the pallet, releasing puffs of spice with every hit. A veritable cloud of the drug was billowing around Ben now.

_ Oh they are making this too easy _ Ben thought with a smile. To say that Ben had been drugged many times in his life would be minimizing the sheer number of times it had happened. It was a constant problem for regular Jedi but it seemed like a curse for Ben. As a padawan he was drugged in some capacity nearly every other mission. State dinner to work on peace treaties? Drugged. Trying to take down a kidnapping ring? Drugged. Exploring ancient temples? Plant drugged, but drugged nonetheless. Trade negotiations with the Neimoidian’s? A room filled with dioxis. And it had only gotten worse with Anakin and worse still during the war. Ben still didn't know what Hondo had put in his and Anakin's drinks that was able to get past their enhanced metabolism and perhaps he didn't want to know. 

The effects of spice was a familiar one and was one he had more than enough experience to work around. 

And he was willing to bet the same could not be said about these smugglers. 

The cloud of spice provides adequate cover and Ben leans out to one side to see his attackers. They are far closer now and in perfect position for his plan. He begins firing at the nearest group who all shuffle backwards in surprise and try to dodge around his fire. In the resulting confusion he uses the Force to move their rebreathers slightly ajar, unsealing them and letting the fine powder of the spice work its magic. Ben doesn't even wait to see the effects take hold before he's darting to the other side to perform the same maneuver. 

Ben moves back to the other side and rushes out a cover to get behind a different pallet. The men keep firing and blow holes into the package of their product, releasing yet another fog of the narcotic. 

Ben fires again and loosens their masks again. And again. And again. Rinse and repeat. Quickly their shots become erratic and further and further from their mark. The blasts begin to peter off after that until only a few sporadic shots are heard. Ben focuses in the Force and feels as each of their minds become hazy and unfocused and eventually slip into unconsciousness. Only when a few are left does he rise from his cover and hit the remaining men with stuns. They drop quickly and then it's silent.

_ That wasn't so bad _ . He hadn't killed any of them and he was certain that a few of the men would have additional bounties. Other than the hangover he was definitely going to get once the spice ran its course, he couldn't have asked for a more straightforward and clean job.  _ Breathe. You didn't give into your anger. It's okay.  _

He pulls off cargo straps from the remaining pallets and uses the Force to drag the drug runners into the center of the warehouse and wrap them up in the straps. Even if they did awaken from their stupors, they wouldn't be going anywhere. 

Among the men’s things he finds a communicator and contacts the local authorities who had already been alerted by workers from other buildings who had heard blaster fire. 

The officer who arrives is a standard police droid who was unfortunately covered in graffiti and had definitely seen better days. It had obviously never been cleaned and had carbon scoring all along its chassis. Poor thing also looked like it had been in a fire. Ben almost felt bad for the droid. 

“A communique was received for this location reporting weapons fire. Identify yourself.” 

“I am Ben the bounty hunter and I had a bit of a disagreement with my bounty. No one is hurt, just a bit out of it.”

“Provide hunter ID.”

Ben hands the droid his card and waits as it scans it in. 

“Identify bounty name.”

“Ethan Ath.”

The police droid seems to take a moment before responding “The station has been alerted to the change of call parameters. Shift commander in-route to assess the situation. Recite the events leading up to this moment.”

Ben easily recounts the last hour to the droid having more than enough experience making reports to the council. When he finishes, he asks if the droid is able to pay out the bounties.

“Please wait for shift commander.”

“Well then can you at least tell me how long until he arrives?” Ben questions, arms crossed over his chest. He was anxious to receive the owed credits.

“Please wait for shift commander.”

He huffed in annoyance. Ben could almost hear Master Yoda from his youth telling him “Patience you must have, young one. Wait until mud settles and water is clear you must. Unmoving you must be until right choice, itself reveals. Trust the Force you must.”

Ben breathed in deeply. He knew his old grandmaster was right. He was unbalanced. It took more of his will than it should to keep from harming the men. He needed to meditate. 

Ben sat on the ground in the traditional lotus pose, unconcerned by the droid who was facing away from him and into the building.

He went deep into his mind and found the sharp thorns of anger in himself, the mental manifestation of his resentment for those men. One by one he plucked the negative feelings from his metal landscape and released them into the Force. Ben noticed some cracks in his mental landscape as well; as though a drought had dried the foundation of his mind. 

He had always had cracks, remnants from the tragedies he had witnessed that he was unable to completely let go of, but never like this. Those other cracks had been hidden or ignored for the most part but these new ones resembled vast canyons. They littered his inner mind. Some the gorges seemed so large and deep he was doubtful he would ever be able to fix them. But that was yet another problem he couldn't address yet so instead he focused on removing his remaining anger towards the smugglers. It was all he could do for now.

The sentient office arrived sometime later, jogging up to Ben and the droid. By then Ben had pulled himself out of his thoughts and was sitting in companionable silence with the droid and was considering cleaning the poor thing if the office had taken much longer. He had not been as productive in his meditation as he had hoped but progress was progress.

“What's this about Ath? You think you got ‘em?” the winded human man asked.

“Oh yes. I'm quite sure it's him and he is definitely indisposed. But there is alot of spice in the air in there so I would suggest you put on some form of protection.”

The office gives Ben a confused look before pulling out a small rebreather and entering the building. Ben follows at a sedate pace allowing the officer to take in the scene.

A slew of men lay tied and bound in heaps, each so caught in their own high as to be oblivious to the outside world. Crates upon crates are stacked around them, filled with one of the most illicit substances in the galaxy. And in the middle was the known prosecutor killer.

The living officer calls in backup immediately and pulls up a holoprojection of the police commissioner. Ben watches as they speak in hushed whispers for a moment before the man returns to his side.

The holographic woman looks Ben up and down in distaste. “And you're sure this is the man who caught them? ” she asks the officer.

“Yes ma'am. He was the only one here when the droid arrived, and he has the bounty attached to his ID.”

The little blue woman turns back to Ben, “Then it seems the people of Eriadu own you thanks, bounty hunter. Not only did you capture a official murder but also managed to expose a drug smuggling ring. You will be compensated accordingly.” 

“All in a day's work ma’am.” He gives her a bow, only to notice halfway through that it is a very Jedi action. It is a habit he will need to break if he hopes to remain undiscovered for what he is.

The commissioner seems just as unmoved by his flirtatious look as the broker had. Her mouth pinches and her eyes narrow as she stares at Ben in annoyance. “The value of the collected bounties will be sent to the guild. Collect your reward from your broker. Now get out of my sight.” 

The officer and his palm sized commissioner walk back into the building leaving Ben out in the dark and with the feeling of thorough dismissal. 

With a disbelieving shake of his head, Ben returns to his borrowed speeder and races back to the guild's base, eager to receive the credits that would be his ticket off Eriadu.


	10. Stars Unfurling Like Flowers

When Ben arrives he is disappointed to learn that the bounty has not been paid out yet and wouldn't be until the captured criminals had been processed fully.  _ Wonderful, another night at a seedy hotel.  _

He finds one closer to the guild’s headquarters and, though it's a little after midday, he is tired. He pays the room fee without really paying attention to the cost. He was dead on his feet. There were times during the war where he had to stay awake for days on end, acting as the only real warning system for his troopers. Those times had been bad. He knew that sleeping tonight would be worse. But he hadn't had energy like he normally did, he tired faster. Yet another thing he would have to figure out.

_ But not today. _

Ben hits the bed still fully dressed and is asleep in moments.

A room of children playing in spice. A dirty robot asking if he wants to buy deathsticks. Another robot but with Helix’s face telling him the chemical formula for bacta. Cody and Bly walking towards him. They smile. He smiles. They smile as they bring their blasters to bear. He has his own blaster and it's set to stun. He doesn't want to kill them, not the clones, not the figures dancing around in a cloud of spice. He wants to move, dodge their blasts but he can't. Something is wrapped around his waist and he can't move. He struggles but the thing never budges. Cody and Bly are gone and it’s Alpha standing in front of him. He doesn't smile and say’s “The death of a Jedi- your death- would be an unacceptable loss.” Ben still can't move when Alpha raises his DC-15 to Ben’s head and fires. 

Ben jolts awake, screaming into his sheets. Alpha shot him. He’s dead. Alpha killed him. He can't breathe. He can't...The thing still has him. He can't move. It's squeezing his chest tighter. 

Ben's hands hits the thing around his waist, it's hard and coarse and it scraps against his fingers as he tries to push it away. 

It is the pain that brings him back to himself. He's alive. 

_ Alive. I'm alive. It's a dream. Just a dream. _

He pulls in a shuddering breath as he tries to find his balance again. Alive. They hadn't killed him. Another breath pulled in with all his focus. Steady breaths. He hadn't seen Alpha since he was sent to Kamino to be a trainer. It hadn't been him. It was just Cody and, even then, it hadn't been  _ Cody _ . Breath. 

It takes several more moments before Ben can muster the strength to sit up. He's covered in sweat and there is tension in every line of his body. Outside the curtains the world is dark. He had slept longer than he thought. His dream seemed to only take minutes but also went on forever. 

He went to rub his face only to wince in pain. His hands had been rubbed raw. It was strange until he thought back to his dream, to the thing that held him in place. His cast. He had been trying to claw his cast off.

Ben sighed and curled until his head rested between his knees. Just another injury to add to his growing list. 

He still did not have an extra change of clothes and the ones he was wearing were still covered in spice dust. He climbed into the shower fully dressed and hoped the water would do some good. He then striped and used soap to hand wash his clothes, watching the water turn a light brown with spice. He then cleaned himself as well as he could given the cast that was still hugging his bear skin. 

He hung his wet clothes where he could and sat naked on his bed. He had a few hours until dawn and he couldn't bear another nightmare. He would try to heal his broken ribs. 

The hours passed quickly as his focus narrowed down to the bone in his side. Taking the nerves and cartilage and atoms and knitting them back into place. It was painful in a distant way. He wasn't out there though, he was inside his body, mending the cracks in his bones and tending to the torn muscles and burst blood vessels around it. It was slow going. Ben had never been a healer. 

It was nearing midday when he finally came back to himself. The instability the dream had caused had faded into equilibrium and his excitement for receiving his bounty money surpassed most of his worries. His ribs were as healed as he could make them but he would leave the cast for the moment just to be safe.

He eats some of the food he had bought the previous day, only just realizing how ravenous he was; he had not truly eaten since he left Hanne. He dressed in his slightly damp clothes, unwilling to dirty the single extra shirt he had before packing his things hopefully for the last time and heading back to the guild.

Mistress Delste was there, reclining on one of the many plush sofas. She had her eyes closed right up until Ben all but stood over her.

“Well you didn't die, so you surpassed my expectations.” she opened her eyes to look at him in re-evaluation. “You also did better for yourself than expected too.” She reached beside her to pull up the datapad again. “15,000 credits for Ath’s original bounty.” She quoted, eyes darting to his face, watch as she further said, “With an additional 9,000 credits for the other various apprehended, and a further addition of 5,000 credits for the discovery of the smuggling ring.”

Ben kept his features composed despite the overwhelming relief he felt. He finally had enough. He wanted to burst out laughing in joy, finally something not terrible was happening, but he couldn't give himself away like that. Displays like that were likely to make him a target for mugging, if not murder. The patrons of the drug den didn't seem to be paying him any attention but he couldn't be sure without skimming their minds.

“So that makes 29,000 credits. Ten percent goes to the guild so that leaves you with... 26,100 credits.” Her eyes had not left Ben’s face, looking for who knows what and Ben wasn't willing to waste the energy to pear into her thoughts to figure it out. 

“That sounds accurate.” he said as neutrally as possible.

Delste stares for a moment longer before languishly rising from her repose and walking towards the bar. “One credit chip, unmarked. Value 26,100 credits.” The droid behind the counter nodded before a chip was ejected from its chassis. Delste placed the chip in Ben's hand but didn't let go.

“I don't know what’s up with you, but you do good work. You ever need another job, just come here.” She released the chip and sauntered her way back to the abandoned couch. 

Ben didn't look back as he quickly made his exit from the guild, the sick and drugged aura of the place disturbing him.

Finally, after what felt like months, he had the money for a ship. 

All he needed now was to find a seller and that wouldn't be a problem on a smugglers haven like Eriadu. 

The first place he tried is an actual ship dealer and everything he showed Ben was overpriced, even if Ben had the credits to cover the cost for some, which he didn't. The next place was no different. It seemed that ship salesmen were all the same throughout the galaxy. 

Walking off the lot of the third dealer he was approached by what looked like a vagrant.

“You look’n for a ship?” the man asked. Ben would withhold his judgements of the man. 

“Yes actually, though I'm not having the best of luck.”

“Its cause you trying to buy them from them cheats. Trash, the lot of them. You got to go to one of the yards if you're looking for a deal.” the man nodded to himself and pointed down the road. “Over there a ways is a yard, got lots of ships. They're not pretty but they’ll fly and they're cheap. And really, cheaps the most important.”

Ben would argue the ability to fly or make hyperspace jumps was paramount, but he kept his opinion to himself. “Then I thank you for your kind advice.” Ben only just barely kept himself from bowing on instinct.

“Ah it aint no thing. No. Not at all. Anyone who wants to get away from this place has me on their side.” The man smiled and wandered off back the way he came, only to begin harassing a couple, making motions to where the ‘yard’ supposedly was. 

The place he was directed to was a variable junkyard run by a Parwan who, despite looking and sounding nothing like him, reminded Ben of Dex. When questioned about the vagrant, he laughed and said that was a friend of his who he paid to advertise for him. “He likes to play up the mystery aspect. Got you here didn't it?” 

The Parwan leads him around pointing out ships with its spindly fingers. “That one’s 32,000. It's got six rooms and-” Before the Parwan can say more Ben cuts in “The most I can spend is 15,000.” He  _ could _ spend more but the ship itself wasn't all that important and he still needed enough to stock up on supplies and have enough left over to free Shmi. 

“Hmm well that narrows it down. I have four ships under that, but only two of those have working hyperdrives. Most of the ships that end up here are heading for decommissioning or are to be scrapped.”

This was true as every ship he had seen was either old, damaged, illegal, or unlicensed. But they were in his price range so he would just have to make do. 

The first ship was a single person craft with an attached hyperring. It was in fairly good shape, if a bit old. If it was just Ben he may have picked it, but he might have to bring Shmi with him and he would definitely need room if he was to pick up Ventress and her master. 

The other ship was a starferry that was missing its cargo container. It was a medium sized ship but was so old and uncared for that it would be amazing if the thing flew, let alone could make it through hyperspace. It was worse than Anakin's ship the Twilight. 

“This is the only other one I got in your price range.” said the dealer. “Next one up will cost 3000 more. It’s cheap ‘cause there's a hole in the hull that makes one of the rooms and one of the storage cabins worthless. But it has three functioning rooms, one of which has bunks. A galley. A refresher. Lots of storage space.”

Ben balks at the mention of a breach in the hull and circles around the ship to see how bad the damage was.

The hole was massive. 

Ben could easily see into the ship itself. Luckily the doors leading into the two rooms were welded shut from both sides so it was unlikely to open and depressurize while flying. But it was a hollow comfort. 

“Yeah, them pirates got her good. Cut those holes when they were boarding her. Come on, I'll show you the inside.”

The Parwan slithered over to where the ramp was before inputting the code to open it. The ramp opened painfully slowly and with great squealing protest. But the lights came on so at least it had power. The first area they passed were the inaccessible rooms and Ben checked the welding to ensure that he found no areas unsealed. All along the walls were the remnants of blaster marks. The dealer pointed out various rooms and systems but grew quiet as they passed one of the bedrooms. On the floor and walls were conspicuous clean spots. Ben didn't need to ask about them and the Parwan didn't seem to want to bring attention to it either. They passed the room in respectful silence. 

Once they reached the cockpit the dealer leaned against one of the seats and said, “well it may be an old piece of shit but it still flies and really that's all that matters.” Ben could almost appreciate the audacious candor if it wasn't his life on the line if the ship failed. 

“Well at least it has shields… it has shields right?”

“Uh yeah it's got them…”

“Hmm...righttt.”

But Ben did not have any more time to wait around on Eriadu. He had things that needed to get done and investigations to begin. Beside he already had a plan to make back whatever credits this ship cost and then some.

“It will do, but first I need a demonstration that it actually flies.”

“Uh yeah of course.” The Parwan flopped down into the seat and began the startup sequence. The ship shook like a bantha waking from a nap and Bens confidence in the ship dropped another notch.

But to his eternal surprise, the ship actually rose into the air. It rumbled and quaked like it was going to fall apart at the seams, but it held. Once they were in the outer atmosphere and the cabin had not depressurized Ben allowed himself to breathe out in relief. At least that wouldn't be too much of a worry. “Well now we know it flies. But can it make a hyperjump?” Ben was looking down at the dealer who was staring out of the view port intensely. Probably weighing the possibility of the ship killing them both in the attempt and the possibility of making a sale.

“Yeah it can make a jump.” He could sound confident all he wanted but Ben could feel the anxiety and fear pouring off the alien.

He imputed the coordinates for a nearby planet into the navcomputer and Ben watched the familiar collapse of space outside of the transparasteel. The starferry rocked like it was taking fire and Ben prayed to the Force that this wasn't where his journey ended.

When they appeared back into real space they both seemed equally shocked. They had just witnessed a miracle. Ben even let out a small chuckle and the dealer whipped around to look at him like he lost his mind before cracking his own smirk.

“Yeah see! Flies like a charm.” They stared at each other in incredulity for a moment before the Parwan entered Eriadu’s coordinates and they shot back into hyperspace. Ben had hoped the second time would have made the ride easier but that had been wishful thinking. 

They landed back in the aliens lot, after a brief issue where the landing gear did not lower completely, and they both exited, walking on the packed earth like it was a Force given wonder. 

“I don't know about you, but I'm going to go get some gambling in. That was one hell of a lucky trip.” the dealer joked, wrapping one of its tentacled arms around Ben’s shoulders.

Ben raised an eyebrow at the man who appeared to remember he was trying to sell the ship to Ben, not make it seem like a test of one's luck. “Anyway...what do you say? You willing to buy? I’ll, uh, even drop the price. 11,000. That's a good deal.”

Ben had already decided that if it could make the jump he would get it. He didn't have any more time to shop around. “Yes, I'll take it”

The Parwan’s mouth dropped open in shock before quickly recovering. “Right, of course, why wouldn't you. Let’s go get this done then, eh.”

The ownership transfer took only a few moments and then Ben was the proud owner of a deathtrap of a ship. 

_ As long as it gets me off this planet, I don't really care what shape the things in.  _

“Well it's yours now. What do you want the call sign to be?”

Ben was feeling particularly cheeky and rather exhilarated now that he had finally managed to procure a ship. 

He typed in the call sign and hit apply before he allowed himself to think on it further. Had master Yoda or Windu been there they would probably have hit him. He didn't care. It was amusing for now and he could really use something to lighten his mood given everything else.

He finished all the paperwork with the Parwan, got the ship refueled and had the water containers filled. He then went to the market to finally get all the supplies he had been lacking for the last week. Clothes, food, medkits, and all the basics. He bought a blanket, not really trusting the ones that were on the ship. And finally, what he considered to be two very important comfort items, a grooming kit and a variety box filled with fifty different teas. He could hardly wait to smell the aroma of a steeping Arkanian white flower tea. Oh, it would work wonders on his nerves, he just knew it. 

He quickly finished his preparations and still had over 12,000 credits remaining, more than enough to help Shmi. 

Finally, after one of the longest weeks of Ben’s life, he was taking to the stars.

The landing gear locked into place and the engines rumbled steadily as he rose into the atmosphere.

Ben typed in the coordinates for Tatooine and ran the jump calculations. Once the navcomputer lit green they were ready for takeoff.

  
Ben and his newly acquired junker, the  _ Piece-of-Sith, _ shot out and away, blurring into hyperspace, the stars unfurling like flowers. 


	11. Of Whispered Truths

The flight from Eriadu to Tatooine would be a blessedly short three days. There was no direct hyperlane to Tatooine and so Ben set the navcomputer to make several smaller jumps, making recalculations along the way to make the journey as brief as possible.

After assuring  _ Piece-of-Sith _ would not disintegrate in the hyperlane, Ben had just sat in the cockpit looking out at the stars. He watched as they shot passed the viewport in lines of white, slipping past countless systems in an instant. He was finally on his way. If he could free Shmi then he could be certain that he could change the course of events. And if they could be changed, well, the universe would hopefully look very different in ten year’s time. 

The first thing he did was crack his cast apart. He had not thought about it much since his nightmare the day before last, but now the thing was just an irritant. He had fully mended his ribs and having a cast supporting him would not cut the most inspiring image. Ben gently peeled away the pieces, revealing his pale, scarred skin. He traced the light indents left behind, thinking of how his fall from the cliff could have been so much worse. He tossed the pieces into the trash and went to explore the rest of his ship. 

Ben was left to his own devices and was keenly aware that, for the first time since landing in the past, he was alone. For the last week he at least had someone whose presence he could feel in the Force, no matter how bleak the company was. But here, slipping through the fabric of space, there was no one. He could only feel his own wavering energies, his own heartbeat, his own thoughts.

He had wanted to be along for so long now. Alone where he would have time to think and heal. But now that he had it, it was dreadful. Oppressive. The silence had a weight, an absence that was filled with  _ something.  _

Ben did not want to dwell on the lack of noise; of marching footsteps and genial conversation, the lack of presence, of life, that surrounded him. He was struggling enough trying to keep himself in a hopeful state of mind, he did not need more poignant reminders of the notable omissions that now filled his life. 

And so, he did the only thing he knew would truly settle him. He made tea. 

He went down the hall to the storage room that held all his newly purchased equipment, counting each step along his way, matching his breaths to his footfalls. He noted the grime on the floors and the dinginess of the walls.

Once there he pulled out a teapot whom more discerning masters of the order would have thought of terrible quality. It was the industrial type; self-heating and a matte black, like what one would find in the office of an overworked intern in the senate. All function, no beauty. Ben couldn't have thought it more lovely. 

He wandered back to the galley and methodically went through the steps of filling the water and heating the cup. He selects a packet he has not tried before, one deychin tea. His mind blissfully blank as he measured out the loose leafs and sat listening to the gentle sound of the water coming to a simmer. He pours the light brown liquid through a sieve and watches as the cup slowly fills.

Ben had always found the process to be a moving meditation for him. He had sought to teach Anakin the skill, but the boy never found the same serenity in it that he had. In fact, he had loudly, and often, decried the flavor of tea, calling it dirty water, earning more than one reproachful look from other masters. And so Ben did not force him. Instead he allowed him to work on the ships in the temple's hanger helping the mechanics or left him to tinker with the plethora of mouse droids available. It was when he was working with his hands that Anakin was at his most serene. 

But for Ben, making tea was beautiful in its mundanity and simple in its reward. And it always brought fond memories to mind. Drinking with Qui-gon after a morning meditation. Yaddle sitting with the senior initiates describing all the health qualities of teas from different sectors. Watching Anakin, Rex, and Cody struggle with the flavors, with their preferences being caf, while he and Ahsoka made thinly veiled jokes at their expense. 

The order may have had thousand year old pots that were soaked in essence of millions of teas and poured without making a splash or sound, but  _ here, now _ , his little pot felt like home. 

The deychin had a ripe, vegetal flavor that settled warm in his core. He took small sips, relishing the flavor and comfort. The universe narrowed down to that moment and he felt whole, calm.

But soon the cup ran dry and he had to reorient himself. He had things to do and a short time to do them. 

Yet as soon as the tea was gone, his intrusive thought began to rear their head again. All his fear and anxieties and concerns about the past and future.  _ What if he could not change anything? What if it was the destiny of the galaxy to fall to war? What if the clones had truly out-and-out betrayed them, angry at their forced slavery and the death of their bothers? What if Shmi was already lost to him? What if he wasn't good enough to save anything? _

_ Stop. _

_ Stop. _

_ We won't know until we get there.  _

He needed a distraction. He needed to move. 

And so, he did the next thing that always helped steady himself. Cleaning. 

It was menial work but necessary and a creche masters favorite for younglings. It taught many lessons, the least of which was patience. 

As padawan he had lamented at Qui-gon’s more  _ relaxed _ style of neatness, where “if you know where the item is, isn't that enough?” was a common answer to his pleas to pick-up. 

And with Anakin it was a whole different form of messiness. Anakin was like a magpie, picking up random items that may have been of value or use and storing them away in his small room. Ben never begrudged his habit, being haunted by his past as a slave and living a life of scarcity, but he did take exception to the utter disarray he would leave his parts in. 

Ben preferred things to be orderly. Having things be in predictable places and with minimal clutter made him feel more in control of any situation.

What was more, if Shmi wanted to get away from Tatooine she would be riding in this ship, and it would not do for it to be in the state it was. He did not need her thinking he was a mad man. 

Using an old initiates trick, Ben pulled a sizable amount of water from the faucet and molded it into a ball. He then made the water within it spin and began pressing the sphere against every surface he could find. The trick acted as a pressure washer, cutting through the accumulated grime. Masters would encourage such acts because it took a great deal of control and balance to keep the water together, let alone manipulate it. 

Ben went through the ship, keeping carefully away from any electrics, with the same method.

The last room he reached was the one that had been occupied when the ship was attacked. The conspicuously clean spots on the floor telling a sad and gruesome story. It did not feel right to simply wipe what was left of the murdered crew and so he began cleaning the old fashioned way. On his knees with a rag, he washed in gentle circles along the floor. He could feel their fear and pain in the walls, echoes of a time many years ago. The people, whoever they may have been, had died here begging for mercy and praying for help. It was heartbreakingly tragic. All so dreadfully sad and violent. Strong emotions left impressions in the Force and this was one too terrible to leave alone.

Ben washed away the bitter memories using his own peaceful presence as a filter. It was a painful experience but a necessary one. These feelings should not be left to linger. He cleaned and scrubbed the walls until the spots were nothing but a memory. Ben wished he knew their species or religion, then he would have left an offering but, as it was, he merely spoke into the empty room “May you find peace in the Force.”

He was drained and saturnine once his miserable task was done but he was loathed to sleep. Not if nightmares were going to plague him. He couldn't bear to keep reliving the horrors of the betrayal and destruction of all he cared for over and over every night. But he couldn't put it off forever. He could feel the fatigue already pulling him down.

Instead, he returned to the galley and ate. The food was simple and bland but it was familiar. Life as a Jedi did not lend itself to rich foods and he had eaten the same flavorless rations as his soldiers.  _ His men. His friends _ . The uneasy silence returned to the forefront of his mind. 

_ How long has it been since I was this alone? _

_ Mandalore.  _

_ The last time was when I went to get Satine away from Mandalore.  _

The thought hollowed him out. That ill fated mission had haunted him for months, and if he was being honest with himself, it still did. Watching the light fade from Satine’s eyes while Maul’s gleefully cruel energy smothered him. Running for his life as a pitched battle raged for a woman whose life and ideals were already lost. 

He hardly remembered his flight back to the temple, just the overwhelming feelings of loss and failure that he had to bury and shield from the other Jedi. 

_ Mandalore...Mandalore. _

_ Ahsoka. _

_ Oh, Ahsoka. What became of you? _

The last he had heard they had taken Mandalore but were still searching for Maul. Ben hoped to the Force that she made it through the clone's betrayal. That she hadn't been one of the thousands who cried out in horror as their companions turned their guns on them. That Rex didn't have to kill what in essence was his little sister. 

His dark imaginings of her fate grew and grew the longer he thought. Would he never get away from these thoughts? These memories? He would never know of her fate. Of Rex’s. Or Mandalore’s. Or Anakin. Or anyone. 

But he could change her fate. That's what he had to hold onto. He could change everything, save everyone. He just had to try hard enough. He would tear himself apart if it gave even the slightest chance of changing what was to come.

But he couldn't do that if he was physically and mentally exhausted.  _ One day at a time.  _

He needed to sleep.  _ The nightmares may come but any sleep is better than none _ . He couldn't collapse. Not when he was so close to altering the future. 

He laid on the floor of one of the bedrooms, overcoat shoved beneath his head, trying to think of nothing. He did not notice when he finally drifted off.

_ Maul was there, stalking just beyond a red laser barrier, watching him with the same menace as he had on Naboo. Ben prepared himself to fight, watching as the zabrak moved from side to side, waiting for the barrier to come down so that he could attack. _

_ From the shadows, another form appeared, gliding closer and closer. _

_ And then Anakin stepped up beside Maul. Ben shouted for him to get away, to run or to fight, but Anakin just watched him through yellow eyes.  _

_ Ben watched in horror as Dooku appeared, only to have his head severed by Anakin, falling soundlessly to the floor, a look of fear and betrayal etched into his every feature. Ben begged Anakin to stop but he didn't. One by one, people appeared, only to be cut down by Maul and Anakin. Jedi, Sith, clones, senator and citizens alike.  _

_ Last were Satine and Ahsoka.  _

_ Satine stood before Maul and Ahsoka before Anakin. ‘NO’ screamed Ben again and again though no sound could be heard. He threw himself against the barrier trying to reach them but nothing gave. He could only watch in mute horror as the two men raised their sabers.  _

_ But before the men could make killing strikes the four of them were pierced with blue blaster bolts, crumpling like dolls.  _

_ And there, behind them, rows upon rows of faceless clones, their features blurred into nonexistence. Ben tried to scream at them, tried to demand answers and justice, but the clones had no eyes to see or mouths to answer. Step by step they got closer until he was completely encircled. And in a voice, not heard but felt, they spoke in unison. Choired in that familiar cadence he had heard a thousand times from millions of the same faces “Good soldiers follow orders.” _

Ben didn't have time to even start awake before his stomach was emptying itself all over the floor beside him. His abdomen clenched, bile pouring forth and creating a pool onto the floor. His eyes were blurred with tears, his body and emotions lost from his control. 

The Force whispered of truth but Ben couldn't listen to it. Ben couldn't do anything as his body wracked with agony and fear.

His heartbeat was erratic and the blood pounded in his ears. He couldn't breathe. 

_ Anakin.  _

His chest radiated with pain and there was a creeping blackness growing at the corners of his eyes. He couldn't breathe.

His arms couldn't hold him up any longer, shaking as they were. He threw himself to the side so that he wouldn't land in the pool of sick. He couldn't breathe. 

The light of the room was nothing more than a pinprick in his mind. Everything hurt. He couldn't breathe.

_ Anakin. _

Blackness took him before he could form another thought. 


	12. He Would Always Think The Best Of Him

Ben awoke in utter darkness. 

Wherever he was, was as black as pitch and devoid of time. It went on forever, and yet, was pressed against his very skin. All murk and shadow and emptiness.

Only the phantom pain of seized muscles and the smell of vomit making him aware that he was not dead and lost in the void. 

_ It hurts...I’m hurt... _

His head throbbed, a dull ache behind his eyes. 

It came back in steps. The fall, the week of being lost, the dreams. 

A dream. A nightmare.

_ A vision. _

The ache became a burning. It hurt too much to try to think more. 

Ben closed his eyes, or at least thought he did, and tried to slip back into that place before awareness. The space of nothing, caught somewhere between dreams and consciousness, but to no avail. 

He was awake and caught in torment. 

Ben’s head felt like it was split open, fragments of his skull torn and scattered, allowing his brain to slide out like so many fears. Another dream, another nightmare. But it rang so true in his heart and in the Force, like a fact carved into the very fabric of the universe. Piles and piles of dead and cold, flame filled eyes. 

The pain grew.

And grew.

And grew.

The darkness ate up his tears and stifled cries. 

It was a long while before Ben could hope to move, all shivers and overwrought muscles. 

The ship was in its nightcycle, the lights turned off to get passengers acclimated to the relative time of their destination. Merely a ship running through its programming, not the endless maw of the abyss. 

Ben stumbled into the refresher, clutching at the walls for balance. He turned on the sink and splashed ice cold water onto his face before frantically scrubbing at it like he could wash the memory away. He filled his mouth again and again, trying to rid himself of the acidic taste of sickness. Sticky with sweat and reeking of bile. He needed a shower. 

He clutched the sink with shaking hands trying in vain to find some modicum of equanimity.

Ben wanted to scream.

But he felt that if he started, he wouldn't stop. That he would have his final breakdown here, before he had managed a single change, and be lost forever in his own anguish and uncertainty.

_ That dream had been hell. How could Anakin do th - No. That wasn't him. Anakin could never be so callous.  _

_ But that is a lie. _

Ben squeezed his eyes shut, as though it could fend off the terrible images in his mind. Memories of Mortis came unbidden, of Anakin filled with darkness, hollowed out by the darkside.

He wanted so desperately to believe that Anakin could never do such a thing, that he would never hurt someone in anger. But he knew that wasn't true. 

He had seen Anakin’s anger time and time again and each time he had turned a blind eye, believing that he needed only to sort out his emotions, that he would handle them in time.

And maybe that had not been enough.

He remembered those moments on Utapau, those feelings of dismay and death that echoed across the universe, bridging the gaps between stars, until it was like they were standing side by side. He remembered his padawan, all terror and desperation. He had been crying. Crying and roiling with darkness. He remembered the acute agony of their bond being shredded apart, the wretched fingers of despair tearing away at the root.

_ Our bond. _

Deep in the recesses of his mind where he kept his most precious of memories was his bond with Anakin. Still as raw and torn as the instant it had been severed. The ruins of their bond, once stronger than any other, rested decimated, reduced to nothing. _ Anakin had severed it, but why? _

_ Where had Anakin been when the clones attacked?  _

_ Coruscant. He had been at the temple on Coruscant.  _

_ Anakin, what happened to you there? What could have hurt you so much? _

Ben stilled. Icy fingers of dread climbing up his spine.  _ No. No. No it couldn't be. There was no way. No. Anything but that.  _

But Ben already knew, the truth of it settling into his heart like a shard of glass. The Force hummed sadly along, burdened with the reality of his original time.

The clones had not just attacked the Jedi in the field, they had attacked them all.

Everyone. 

Everywhere.

The temple.

Ben stared unseeing into the sink, the water swirling away down the drain. 

_ They attacked the temple.  _

Anakin had been there when they turned their weapons on the Jedi. He must have seen them begin their execution. He must have felt when the clones ceased to be themselves as Ben had, had felt their cold satisfaction when they successfully killed the ones who used to be their friends. 

He must have had to kill his own men.

Yellow eyes flashed inside his mind, red rimmed and shining with fear and hopelessness. Crying and angry and scared.  _ Anakin _ . Anakin had fallen to the darkness. 

Was that what his dream had tried to show him? Were these visions trying to reveal the truth?

Had Anakin Fallen because the clones betrayed them?

The Force whispered about him, circling, pulling him closer to an answer.

It was true, and yet, it was wrong.

Something twisted in his conclusion to make it false, the Force filled with the feeling of ‘not quite’, but the answer eluded him. There was more than what his vision showed him, some vital detail that would make everything clear. 

But it wouldn't happen just then. At the moment he could barely stand, let alone work out the mysterious ways of the Force.

He collapsed back onto the floor, leaning against the wall for support. He had been foolish to think the temple would have been spared. 

Ben felt numb. Numb and in such agonizing pain he could hardly think. He could only guess at the horrors that befell the temple and those gentle souls within it. He thought of Anakin losing control and fighting through its ancient halls. Of the masters and knights and padawans and initiates and...and...younglings. And worst of all, he thought of what he would have done had he been there. He could not lie to himself; he would have been far from merciful. 

_ I'm not worthy of being a master.  _

A true Jedi master wouldn't be as crippled as this, wouldn't allow their fears to infect their dreams, wouldn't be burdened by the loss of the others. He had known they had killed the others, had felt it, and yet knowing how far it reached was appalling. And still it changed  _ nothing _ . Not really. The Jedi were gone, Anakin was gone, either at the hands of the clones or being reduced to nonexistence by his slipping through time. 

But no matter how he tried to rationalize it, no matter how he tried to shape this unmitigated tragedy into something he could view objectively, he couldn't accept it. A reality he understood but felt impossible, even now. 

A true master could allow them to join the Force without hesitation. And they certainly wouldn't doubt their padawan. ‘ _ A perfect Jedi indeed’  _ he thought scornfully. 

_ And it's all gone now. Everything that was, simply washed away. _

It was just him, haunted by the possibilities of a world he was setting out to insure never happened.

Ben wrapped his hand around his eyes and gave out a humorless laugh. 

He needed to move

He was so knotted up inside his own head; stuck in a state of inaction and contemplation that was destroying his resolve. If he kept on like this he was sure to go mad. He needed something to do. Something real and tangible. 

_ Training. _

He had the entire back half of the ship to act as a training ground and by the stars he would use it. It was either that or be left with his unbearable thoughts. 

The entire loading bay was empty and about the size of a regular training salle. The only concern was that any damage to the hull and the ship would depressurize, so he would keep to the more contained katas.  _ Sith hells, the junker may just shake itself apart without his interference.  _

Making his way to the large, gray storage area, Ben striped out of his soiled clothes, tossing them into his obviously wrecked room. He could deal with that later. 

He took his lightsaber from its hidden container on his belt and stared at it for a long moment before curling in on himself, pressing the blade’s handle to his face, weeping into its cool metal. His lightsaber was the last thing he had from his original time. He had nothing else, no one else. The crystal inside called out to him, offering comfort in its obtuse way, trying to offer its strength, its serenity. It only made Ben cry harder. He was rattled and weary and he couldn't  _ kriffing _ sleep. The saber pulsed in his hand, sending a wave of sympathy and consolation coursing through him like a Force bond. It wanted him to be strong. It wanted to help him. 

“You're my last friend, eh?” The crystal resonated like a hum. “Then I'm glad to have you at my side.”

He stood in the center, saber in hand, working through the breathing exercises only younglings were taught.

To have his saber back in hand was heartening, the crystal within humming with gentle assurance. Kyber crystals were not sentient and yet, they flowed with the Force and connected with their user on such a deeply personal level, that its resonant harmony almost seemed to speak to its wielder. 

Ben began with the most simple of katas, moving with the easy rhythm of decades of practice. He could have jumped right into the most difficult forms of soresu but it had been more than a week since he had practiced and right then he needed the familiarity of the basic moves to steady his whirling mind. 

_ Step, block, step, step, defend, rotate. step, block, step, step, defend, rotate. _

Over and over he repeated the basic forms as naturally as breathing. He moved around the storage room like a dancer, the orbital moves and advanced footwork of soresu gilding him into a perfect defense. Deflecting and parrying imagined attacks, the katas quickly became like a white noise that kept his mind blissfully clear. 

Lightsabers helped Jedi center themselves and find balance in the Force and the katas taught them focus and control along with skills in combat. It was an extension of a Jedi's Force awareness. And at the moment, it was all that was holding him together.

Ben began moving to the more advanced forms, each successive swing more precise, each piece of footwork faster than the one before. 

The moves were difficult but soresu’s strength was its endurance. Eventually he reached the apex of the form, moving with all the grace and skill of a Jedi master, shifting in blindingly fast rings of defense. 

Time melted away and it was hours later, when fatigue and exhaustion finally overwhelmed his hard won tranquility, that Ben finally stopped. His legs and arms were screaming at him, sore from overwork, and he was in desperate need of some water. But Ben felt better. The fog of his mind had lifted and the remnants of his nightmare were quiet. He had torn through his energy.

Finally, after a week of hell, he felt more like himself. 

_ I am Obi-wan Kenobi. Jedi master, Council member, and High General of the 3rd systems army. Master of Anakin Skywalker and grandmaster of Ahsoka Tano. I am ten years in the past and the only hope for the Order and the galaxy. And I will do whatever it takes to ensure the clone wars never occurs, that the Sith are eradicated, and that Anakin is spared every pain.  _

Ben breathes; calm and focused and steady. He has a purpose, a goal. The mysteries of that other life were just that. He could sort them out after he had stopped the war.

_ Movement. Mastery. Focus. Balance. Breathe. _

He had time enough to decipher the Force's enigmatic messages. He had time to come to terms with the past he left behind. He had time to rewrite the future. He had _ time. _

_ Breathe. _

Weary but composed, Ben returned to the refresher, this time taking note of every flaw in his appearance and demeanor. Stars he looked dreadful. Clearly he had not been eating enough if the growing hollowing of his cheeks were an indication, or maybe it was stress. His beard was in need of a good trim and his hair a good brushing. He hadn't bought any gel so he would have to live with his copper locks being fluffed around his head for awhile yet. He was as pale as always but the bruises and signs of injury from Utapau were all gone. 

What truly marked him as wretched was his eyes. The bags that had been in place days before were deeply entrenched now. He had not had a proper sleep in a week, getting only his fitful, tiring nightmares. His eye seemed to have receded into his head for how dark they looked. But more than that was the shattered, sorrowful look he found in them. But what more could he expect? He had lost everything only a week ago and got nightly reminders of their terrible end every time he shut his eyes.

He had never been perfect at caring for himself, but he always thought himself adequate at it.  _ Perhaps not as good as I thought _ . 

But everything else he could fix. He got his grooming kit and set to work, sculpting his beard and hair back to his preferred lengths. He thoroughly cleaned himself and massaged his aching muscles while under the steaming water. He dressed in newly purchased clothes and prepared a larger late meal than he would ever normally eat, along with a large amount of water. 

Once he felt every selfcare thing he could do had been done, he set himself into a meditative pose. He was tired, bone deep tired, but if nightmares would plague his dreams then he would mediate. 

He would not focus on anything in this meditation, just the ebbing and flowing of the Force, giving his body time to rest and recuperate. He slipped deep into the meditation, losing time as he was washed away by the currents of the Force. 

The morning, or as much a morning as can be expected on a vessel traveling through space that had no real time delineation other than when he chose to wake, came without incident. The meditation had worked wonders for his body which had not had the rest needed to repair and maintain itself. Ben wished he could feel relieved. But he knew he would have more nightmares, more visions. It was only a matter of when. He couldn't avoid sleep forever, even with the Force's help.

The first thing he did was clean the vomit left on his floor and reorganize the things scattered around the room.  _ Must have force thrown them in my panic. _

Next Ben went back to the cockpit and collapsed into one of the seats with a huff. The stars still flew by and he watched them with tired eyes. 

He stayed lounging in his chair. Contemplating how he would approach the problem of Shmi, purposely avoiding any other thoughts. He had far less than a day before he arrived. 

He needed a cover story, one more believable than time travel. 

Firstly, he needed a reason for freeing, or even knowing about, Shmi. 

Ben leaned back into his seat, one arm crossed across his midsection and the other resting on it so that he could press his hand to his chin in thought. Ahsoka had called it his ‘ _ plotting pose _ ’, which was utterly ridiculous in his personal opinion. 

The easiest way was to say he knew Anakin, which he could easily prove with his vast knowledge of the boy. But he couldn't know him as a Jedi. so that left knowing him either through Naboo or having met him on missions. Naboo would be better.

_ Yes, that would be plausible . After all, the Naboo invasion was a scant three years ago at this point. Just long enough for someone to rebuild their life and seek out a way to repay their defenders. Perfectly believable. _

He would be a guard from Naboo who had been caught up in the invasion. He knew Anakin as the boy who had saved them all by destroying the droid command ship. He would know of Shmi through the stories Anakin told them and was freeing her as repayment for the life debt he felt he owed the boy.

As far as cover stories went, it wasn't the worst he had ever come up with. Regardless, it would have to be enough for now, and if it wasn't, Ben could always improvise. 

Also, it had enough truth to it, or at least something parallel to it, that Ben wouldn't be lying outright. After all, he didn't want to be completely deceiving the woman who had raised and shaped his broth- frien- padawan.

He was certain that in time he would need a more elaborate fake identity but for now it would do. 

Ben spent the next several hours planning and fretting about how he would find Shmi, how he would approach her, what he would say, and not say, how he would navigate a world he had hardly set foot on, let alone the city he had never seen. 

And then sooner than he thought the navcomputer alerted him to their emanate arrival. 

Ben stared at the control panel, watching the numbers counting down. He prepared the transponder code, smirking at the name  _ Piece-Of-Sith _ blinking on the display. ‘ _ What a foolish name’ _ he chuckled to himself. He just knew, one day, that call sign was going to get him into trouble.

‘Three. Two. One.’

Appearing out of realspace, Ben stared transfixed at the world laid before him. 

There, beyond the transparisteel window, was Tatoonie, hovering like a grain of sand itself among the endless cosmos. The linchpin on which the fate of the galaxy would turn.

_ Here is where everything truly begins. _


End file.
